


Life at Stockton

by Apep40



Category: Sons of Anarchy
Genre: Clay really hates Jax, Clays crushing on Juice, Corrupt Guards., Flashbacks, From clays POV, Humiliation, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, My First Fanfic, Non-Consensual Spanking, Nudity, Prison, Torture, juice needs a hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2020-04-10
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:47:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 38,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23375647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Apep40/pseuds/Apep40
Summary: This is partially based on one of the appisodes aired between series 3 and 4. Ive revised chapters 4 and 6 abit recently and added a few extra thousand words.
Relationships: Clay Morrow/Juice Ortiz
Comments: 60
Kudos: 21





	1. Mexican Basketball

Clay was trying to remember the last time he had felt powerful. 

He knew he should feel powerful. He was the president, the king. He had taken the gavel from John Tellers weak, sentimental hands and turned SAMCRO into a club that everyone respected and worked with. The triads, the mafia, the Niners and, soon, even the Galindo Cartel. For years Charming had been his, even the mayor and the sheriff didn’t dare cross him but even still he felt like he had no control. 

It wasn’t being in prison. He’d done his time before. The strip searches , having to call some giggling streak of piss half his age “sir”, being told when he could sleep, bathe, eat and everything else that had reduced his life to a miserable, monotonous hell for the last 10 months. He had endured it last time for 6 years, he could adapt quickly, more quickly than clay would like. It wasn’t that.

No, it was the years he had endured seeing his own club undermine him at every available opportunity. Bobby constantly second guessing his every decision. Tigs constant fuck ups that he had to deal with and his sulky indignation at everyone realizing he was little more than Clays attack dog and not his right- hand man. That’s what he was, he’s not smart enough for anything else, you sic your dog on people you don’t summon it to the table to debate your next move.

Gemma was getting a little too haughty for his tastes, too. She saw herself as the warrior Valkyrie queen of the club when in truth she was just an old lady. Its his fault for spoiling her he supposed, the first time she’d thrown one of her drunken tantrums, the first time she’d schemed behind his back or carried herself above a club member he should have given her a nice, loving beating. He grimaced to himself, probably too late to change her now, he sighed. They’re married and he has to live with her. But he was starting to question if she still loved him or, hell, whether she ever loved him in the first place. Maybe, she just wanted a competent placeholder to hold the club together, a regent who would step down as soon as her darling little prince was ready to take the throne. 

Jax. He had really turned out like his old man. The same smug, moralizing self-righteousness practically radiating off him. He was the worst of the not inconsiderable thorns on his side. Being the presumed heir had spoiled him, made him forget his place. He knew John, despite the mans hippie, peace loving pretensions, if a member had constantly challenged him and tried to subvert every vote like Jax had, he’d have beat him bloody. 

A guard had come to let him and Juice out of their cell. Officer Lowe. He was the most non- descript looking one of all the guards and he looked like was approaching 50 but there was something off about him. “Yard Time?” Clay said with mock enthusiasm. Lowe didn’t say a word, just stared at them without saying anything and indicated that they should leave the cell now. Clay quietly walked out down the corridors out into the yard. Juice on the other hand had been fidgeting from the inactivity in his cell and was impatiently rushing to get some physical activity to do. _He really is a boy, not a man_. Clay thought to himself. Not that he minded.

Clay was grateful that Juice was his cellmate, despite the rest of the club’s assumption he would find it annoying. He found Juices naivete, guileless innocence and boyish bravado and eagerness for the club rather endearing,most of the time. He was the only member of the club who didn’t have another agenda or ulterior motive to advance, his life was for the brotherhood of the club, the adventure, the freedom, the deep sated bonds you could only have with a family of choice rather than of blood. _Were me and John ever like that?_ Clay sighed, why couldn’t Gemma have raised a son like Juice? Sweet, loyal, obedient, childish yet competent but no. When he walked out into the yard, the sun and its oppressive heat hit him, and he saw Jax already waiting, smiling at him. 

_Don’t you dare smirk at me, like that. You fuckin’ little brat._ Did Jax really think there’s any situation where he and Clay could be friends? After everything Jaxs done does he think showing some false deference will change anything? _Just shut up and play nice. You need him to sway the club to accept this deal with Galindo._ He groaned at the thought of the fuss Bobby and Piney was going to inevitably throw when they heard about this, getting him a concerned look from Juice. “You okay, Clay?” Juice asked, concern showing on those big, brown eyes of his. “I’m good, Juicy.” Clay smiled reassuringly. 

He already knew what they would say. It’s against everything John would want for this club! John was a coward who would have led SAMCRO into failure and disgrace. Its too risky! With great risk comes greater reward. And if Jax even tried to dissuade him at the last minute about risks to the club, he would break his jaw. He lost all right to claim to care about the club when he told Clay the price for his help was allowing him to leave it.

Not that it mattered anyway Clays days at the head of the table were coming to an end. He had accepted that for a while now, he only had a few years of strength in him before the arthritis makes him a pathetic joke. All he needs is for business with Galindo cartel to go smoothly and he’ll have all he needs to retire with Gemma. Comfortably. Happily. It was all working so well in his head that he forgotten where he was and when he had snapped back to reality, he saw Tig and Happy talking with a group of spics.

“What’s goin’ on?” Clay demanded. This really wasn’t the environment were surprises where something he welcomed. Then he saw the basketball Tig was holding. “Wetbacks want to play a match.” Tig smiled. _Was he asking permission?_ The gang didn’t look stupid enough to start a fight if they started to beat them. He saw that Juice was looking at him like a 10-year-old who wanted to go out to play with his friends. He couldn’t help but chuckle at that and he shrugged and said “Sure. Kick some ass.” The rest of the club grinned, happy to have something to take their mind off their time in prison. Juice was particularly happy and, in preparation for the match, stripped off the sweaty shirt clinging to his toned, muscular body. Half of the prisoners in the yard eyes lit up, some practically drooled at him. Clay groaned; _Juice is prettier than most of the girlfriends of these animals._ It’s always confused how something who was so book smart could be so mind bogglingly dumb about how life in prison operated. Especially considering how nervous Juice had been when they arrived at Stockton.

Clay remembered when they were in the back of the van being transported to Stockton. After Filthy Phil and Miles gave the signal, that their plan had succeeded, and Stahl was dead they were all rapturous. All they had to do was 14 months. They laughed, cheered and were optimistic about the future now that Stahl had been removed from it. 

Except Juice. Juice had never done serious time before. The longest stint he’d ever done was in Juvie and the reality of what was awaiting was just starting to sink in. The total loss of freedom, dignity or privacy for a long time had been a pretty abstract concept in his head but now there was no enemy left to fight and all that was left was to endure his time in prison. He was beginning to panic, his breathed started to increase rapidly, he was sweating, and he was beginning to look dizzy. _Is he having a panic attack?_ Clay remembered thinking. This was the worst time. He couldn’t enter prison on the verge of tears.

He had put his hand on Juices neck and squeezed gently. “Relax Son.” He had whispered at juice. He then gently kneaded the back of Juice until he had visibly relaxed. The rest of the gang were sympathetic and pretended they hadn’t seen anything. Juice still looked tense but nothing unusual, nothing that could be seen as weakness. He gave Clay a look of silent gratitude, not that Clay had minded helping him. Clay had found massaging Juice soft, smooth, caramel coloured skin to be rather therapeutic himself. 

The club had done what they could to protect Juice throughout the last year. No other prisoner would touch him. The prison guards were another story. Stockton naturally attracted corrupt perverts and sadists and Juice with his sensitivity and good looks was like a magnet to people like that. One in particular, Officer Plemons, had a thing for muscular Hispanics, _Juice must have a curse on him_ , and he became interested in him very quickly. For the first month Plemons would often be seen ogling Juice as he bathed in the shower room or exercised in the yard. He would often find the slightest excuse to give Juice a thorough strip search. Thankfully, for Juice the club contacted Plemons and bribed him to leave him alone. Gradually in the months that followed, Juice had become used to life in Stockton and even seemed to treat it like an extended holiday.

 _Probably too comfortable, come to think about it._ Clay thought as Juice came to join Happy and Tig leaving his shirt at the table, he, Jax and Bobby were seating at before joining the game. As he approached, Clay couldn’t help staring at his physique. _Prisons done the boy’s body good._ Juice had always been in great shape with large pecs and biceps and a flat stomach, but he had been stockier and lacked the tone Jax had. The handsome feature of his face had been softened somewhat by the slight bit of weight Juice carried on his face. But no longer.

Juice had grown out his hair, he had stopped shaving his scalp since entering Stockton and now there was thick dark hair on his scalp _. Please, when he comes out don’t let him shave it back into that stupid mohawk again_. Clay silently pleaded. He had grown a slight moustache that didn’t quite meet together on his upper lip in a way that Clay found quite endearing. But it was the change to his body that Clay was impressed with. Juice had passed the time with constant exercise at yard, at the gym, in the cell even at night when clay was trying to sleep. The end result was that Juice had virtually no fat on his body at all. His physique was smaller but more well-muscled. With a sinewy back, toned arms and a tight six pack that shamed Jax in its definition. 

While Clay watched the game unfold, Bobby and Jax were conversing, Clay wasn’t paying attention to what they were saying nor did he particularly care. The match wasn’t following any particular rules, that was evident by how Happy had broken a player’s nose. But the main attraction of the match was watching Juice athletic body in motion, seeing him deftly dodge and weave through the yard was a rather beautiful sight. Especially now that Juices body was glistening with sweat and the sunlight seemed to shine off his flawless brown skin. The pants that had been issued to Juice were a bit too big for him not usually a problem in the controlled confined life on prison but when he was exerting himself it could be a bit of an issue. Juices pants slid down by a few inches revealing his tight boxer shorts. Clay couldn’t help but admire the graceful beauty of Juices firm, perky ass. Clay felt the confines of he pants getting progressively tighter. _I really have been away from Gemma for too long._

Clay was hoping that he hadnt been staring too blatantly or that he had been caught. Thankfully, Jax and Bobby had been talking so intently they hadn’t noticed or were they arguing? _Please Christ, tell me that Jax hasn’t told him yet._ One look at the glare Bobbys face was enough to tell him that he had. Clay sprung up from the bench he was lying on and walked over to the game, signalling to Tig he wanted to take his place but unfortunately for him he wasn’t quick enough to avoid Bobby. 

“You’re planning on bringing the club into bed with a cartel?!” Bobby glared at him.

“Relax. Just considering. If I do though, it will just be for a few months. Well make are money and then never have to see them again.” Clay smiled self- assuredly but that just seemed to make Bobby angrier.

“A few mon... It’s a goddamn cartel, you can’t jus…...”

“Bobby,” Clay said, in a tone he usually reserved for the prospects, “use your big Jew brain. We can go down Jaxs route of surviving off of pornos and, maybe, you’ll be able to scrape enough money to support your kid. My way. The cartel way and you’ll be able to get your kid everything he’ll every want. Just something to consider.” He smiled at Bobby then turned away. He was done with explaining, done with justifying himself to the club he was the president of. Besides some good hard, physical exercise might help him get his mind of Juice. 

Tig walked past him as he joined the match. Juice was waiting for his president to join the game. As Clay walked past him, he put his arm around Juice and touched his back. Juice found it a bit awkward, the touch seemed to last a bit longer than a gesture of comradeship should be, in his opinion. Clays touch lingered and he seemed to be gently caressing his back muscles for a few seconds but then he stopped and quickly joined the game. Juice decided to shrug it off and concluded that prison was making him paranoid.

 _It’s probably wrong of me to think about juice like that_ , Clay thought guiltily. Then he realised he was being too hard on himself when he saw Juices half-naked body run pass him _, if god didn’t want me to think about him like that he shouldn’t have made him so adorable and sexy_ , Clay looked on hungrily as he saw Juice jumping up to throw the ball into the net. Its not like Clay didn’t appreciate Juice and saw his worth, most of the rest of the club just viewed Juice as some dumb muscle who had some computer skills, Clay truly did appreciate him. Juice was a good boy, a loyal soldier and possibly, judging by the way things are going, the only true friend Clay can depend upon. True loyalty, not dependent on money or promises but genuine devotion. It was one of the greatest forms of power a leader can have.


	2. Clays reflections

They had won the game, decisively. The Mexican gang were giving them these petulant sulky looks that Clay found hilarious considering the intimidating tattoos they had on their faces. He wondered if they were stupid and petty enough to start a fight over that. But luckily Happy was glaring at them in a way that would have intimidated the reaper himself. Juice however wasn’t reading the situation very well and was going over to talk to them. Clay didn’t know whether it was to congratulate them for a fun match or asking them if they wanted to do it again soon. He was pretty certain Juice wasn’t going over to gloat, he was far to nice for that. 

There was one member of the gang who was particularly indignant at Juices presence, he was fat but strong looking, with beefy,solid arms. He lunged at Juice who effortlessly dodged him and with a good-natured laugh came running towards Clay and Happy as they went to sit down. Clay had enjoyed the match, enjoyed having something to do rather than worry about club business when he got out and something to distract himself from all the feelings Juice was provoking in him. His joy was short lived when he saw Jax and Bobby were still in conversation. _If Jax can’t convince Bobby, we need this…_ Clay dreaded to think. He needed Bobby on board, Bobby was perceived as the voice of reason at the table, his vote would do much to sway the rest of the club in agreeing to go along with Clays plan. He was trying to hear what they wear saying but the noise of the yard was stopping him from doing so. All he could manage to hear was one line spoken by Jax. “It’s about something to make all this shit worth it,” was what Jax said, he believed. And Bobby nodded, seemingly in agreement.

Clay stopped. Now that, that made him angry. That was the exact same argument he had presented towards Bobby, they needed something to make the life they lived worth to risk. To have the money not just to survive but thrive. _Typical,_ Clay thought. When he presents an idea, it’s met with suspicion and protest, whereas when Jax does it, even something that’s identical to what Clay would suggest, it’s met with praise and deference. _Is Jax spreading a bunch of pheromones that only I’m immune to?_

Clay tried to think of any potential allies. Tig, he was the only one of the old members who hadn’t turned sentimental into holding the Teller name in religious awe and could see the smirking brat for what he was. That alone was all Clay needed to constantly forgive Tig for all his endless fuckups. Juice? He was the newest admitted member and saw Jax as another member, not the presumed king in waiting of SAMCRO. He was certain that he’d take his side over Jax. Plus, maybe he was misreading the situation, but over the last 10 months living in the same cell as clay, Juice seemed to have started viewing him as a father figure. _I wonder how he’d react if he found out how I view him?_ Juice had sensed Clays anger, his cute ears pricking up like a puppy. Not wanting to alarm Juice, Clay composed himself and visibly relaxed.

Clay sat down at the bench, Juice and Happy joining him. Clay noticed he hadn’t put his shirt back on, he seemed to be nervous. Usually talkative, Juice was quietly looking down at his feet and while normally he sprawled himself over the bench, he had adapted a rather tense posture. _He must be nervous that the club might become fractured while were still in prison._ It was rather quick of Juice to sense there might be another feud between him and Jax brewing again. _He’s smarter than other people think._ Not wanting to alarm Happy or Tig he nonverbally tried to reassure Juice and quickly patted Juices head. Juice looked up at Clay and smiled nervously at him. 

A few minutes later Happy got up and indicated to Juice to come with him. This had been part of their routine for a last few month in prison. Juice and Happy would intensely work out together. sometimes turned it into a competition, whether it was push ups in the yard or lifting weights in the gym, to see which would win, Juices energy or Happys determination. They were both in fantastic shape, but it usually came down to Happy winning on feats on strength and Juice winning on feats of stamina. 

As Juice got up from the bench, he picked up his shirt and put it back on. Clay sighed in disappointment; couldn’t he have done it topless, just once? Usually Juice wore a tank top and exercising hard beneath the hot California left the fabric clinging to Juices body like a second skin. That was usually the highlight of Clays very boring and depressing day. He thought how beautiful the view was watching the muscles in Juices arms flex and strain and how much better it would be if he could look at Juices chest and stomach as he exercised too. Clay was imagining it now, the slabs of his pecs rising and falling as he took in breaths after his workout, the taut contours of his rock-hard abs defining themselves even more as he exerted himself. Clay sighed happily as he lost himself in the fantasy, _If Bobby interrupts me with even one complaint ill kill him._

When had he started to think about Juice like this? He’d always liked Juice, but it was a feeling that Clay could only describe as a sort of paternal fondness. A feeling which had only grown as his own adopted son had forgotten his place and Clay had spent the best part of a year living in the same cell as him. It wasn’t because he saw Juice as a perfect soldier that he could mould into being a mirror image of Clay, there was plenty of Juices personality that Clay didn’t approve. He found his naivete irritating and his childish attempts at looking intimidating with his mohawk and his head tattoos absurd, but he did care for Juice. _How can I care for Juice as a son, while thinking about him like this?_ Clay knew that peoples feeling for each other could get complicated and even contradictory at times and the club can complicate shit, maybe he was judging himself too harshly. Clay remembered when he first started to have feelings for Juice, it was about a year and half ago. 

Clay, Bobby and Tig entered the clubhouse, they were furious. Juice had fucked-up, badly. They were out hunting for the freak who had raped Oswald’s daughter and they were off to raid the house of where one of the suspects lived and juice hadn’t stashed the ammo for their guns. If the guy hadn’t turned out to be a born-again Christian, things could have gone very poorly for the sons. Short of dying there wasn’t an excuse Clay was going to accept from Juice. He had walked in with the fullest intention of beating the shit out of him, then he saw him. Juice had fallen unconscious onto the floor, a small pile of drool forming besides his face, the bag of ammo was beside him and pills were scattered around him.

“What the…” Clay studied the scene before him, “did he…take these? Why would he do that?” Tig looked a bit guilty for a few seconds, then he started to burst out laughing.

“Idiot probably thought it was speed.” Bobby suggested, that caused Tigs laughs to devolve into hysterics. Bobby placed his foot onto Juices buttocks and pressed down hard enough to shift Juices body, still there was no sign of life from Juice other than some light snoring. “Damn, Tig. How strong were those things? He’s not going to wake up brain damaged or something?" Bobby asked. Tig stopped laughing temporarily to answer.

“Hmm, no. No. He should be fine. 80% sure hell be mostly fine. Heh.” Then Tig resumed laughing. Clay walked over to Juices body.

“Well just be aware you two. I want something special.” Clay grinned. Tig and Bobby commenced with the beginning of Juices punishment. Tig wrapped his arms around Juices chest and Bobby grabbed his feet, together they lifted him into the backroom. 

It was about half and hour later that Clay checked in to see what it was they were doing to Juice exactly. _I probably shouldn’t have given Tig free reign_ , Clay reflected, _but Juice did need to be reminded what the consequences were for failing the club_. Bobby wasn’t there, Tig was, he was writing the words “Slighting retarded baby” on a piece of cardboard and beside him, lying on his back, was a completely naked Juice. 

_That was when Juice was at his worst shape_ , Clay reflected. Juice had been the club’s intelligence officer for a while by then and he hadn’t engaged in as much physical activity as the rest of the gang. He had firm large muscles on his chest and arms, but they weren’t particularly defined. He had nice sturdy thighs and calf muscles but his stomach, while almost completely flat, had a very fine padding of fat on it. It was only when he had finished observing these things that he had become sickened with himself for noticing them in the first place. He also noticed something else, Juice was completely smooth.

“Do you do that?” Clay asked Tig pointing at Juice.

“What? Huh? Oh, no. He was already like that when I started.” Tig claimed. He was probably telling the truth. Juice had argued with Half sack in the past about whether it was gay or not to “shave your shit” and Juice was surprisingly metro. When Juice first prospected and Chibs told him that there someone tech savvy who wanted to join, Clay was expecting some unkempt slob but Juice had proven to the most personally hygienic of all the club members and he had shown how seriously he took the upkeeping of appearances with how he, every day without fail, shaved his head. _And every where else as it turned out_ , Clay thought back smiling. 

As he had continued to steal glances at Juices hairless groin Clay had been surprised by how well endowed he was. Juice had gained a reputation of being the little guy of the club, a moniker that seemed rather unfair considering Juice was of average height and had a buff body but a testament to how large the rest of the club members were, but he really wasnt little down there. He had a long, thick cock and a pair of plumb balls that Clay had been sorely tempted to squeeze. _Lucky little bastard._

Then he noticed the diaper and pacifier at Juices feet and then he knew what Tig had planned for Juice. Clay had felt bad for him but also couldn’t help chortlingly. Clay picked up the pacifier.

“Please, please. Tell me this is going in his mouth.” Tig grinned at that comment.

“Yeah, boss. What kind of monster to you take me for?” Tig clutched his chest theatrically, in mock indignation. Tig grabbed the diaper, looked at Juice, then looked at Clay. “Boss, would you mind helping me with him? Bobby had something with his kid come up and finishing this is a 2-man job.” Clay probably should have bristled at being asked to do prospect work, but it had been a tiring day and he needed something to amuse himself.

“Sure, why not?” Clay waited for instruction over what Tig needed him to do. Tig indicated for Clay to lift Juice as he put on the diaper. Clay put his arms around Juices chest and lifted him up. The first thought Clay had when he was holding Juice how surprisingly good it felt. Juices soft, warm brown skin and his firm, solid frame felt nice to touch. Seeing Juice deep in sleep was comforting as well. Juice was, to put things bluntly, adorable and seeing the boy sleeping like this made Clay feel oddly content. Clay was getting lost in thought and then, without thinking about it, his hands had begun to gently explore Juices chest. _Shit, what was I thinking? With Tig in the room?_ But Tig was too busy putting the diaper on to notice. Clays thumb was gently stroking the tattoo Juice under his left pec, the one in the Chinese characters. Then Tig was finished and stood up.

“Right, then. Just a few more touches.” Tig indicated Clay to put Juice on the ground. To his surprise his boss gently lowered Juice onto the floor rather than just drop him like he would have done. Tig just shrugged and got the pacifier and placed it in Juices mouth. After he secured the pacifier with tape, he proceeded to get a stable gun. Clay eyes widened in surprise, then he remembered the placard in the room and realized Tig was going to stable it to Juice chest. Clay almost said something, this was going too far, Clay had realized, but he had commanded to Tig be creative with his punishment, something that Juice would remember for a long time. He turned away, uncomfortable, as Tig finished his work, he winced as Tig pulled the trigger of the stable gun and felt rather guilty when he heard the moans from Juice in his drug induced sleep. 

Tig was ready to take Juice and dump him outside. Clay had stopped Tig and told him to put Juices boots back on to stop Juice from enduring the walk through the sun-baked streets of Charming on his bare feet. Tig had looked surprised, protested that Juice hadn't earned any small mercies and, besides, babies don’t wear boots anyway. Clay irritably presented Tig with an ultimatum; either put the boots on Juice or the whole punishment is called off. Tig had grumbled that Clay was getting soft in his old age but had obeyed him. 

A few hours later, Juice had woken up and was walking back to the clubhouse. When he was in the car park, he tried to act like he was in on the joke by forcing himself to grin, but Clay saw that Juice was blushing so fiercely that it was showing through his brown skin. Everyone in the clubhouse had laughed at Juices expense, even the normally stoic Happy had broken into a smile. Clay felt guilty for making Juice into a joke, but everyone had needed the laugh after a hard day. However, he didn’t appreciate that Half-sack was laughing at him. That had made all humour in Clay evaporate instantly, and he had walked over to Half-sack and punched him so hard in the stomach he fell to he knees. Clay had grabbed him by the hair and forced him to look at him.

“Listen hear prospect. You ever laugh at a member’s expense again, ill break your jaw. Understand?” He said while roughly twisting Half-sacks hair, he nodded.

“Yeah, Clay. Shit…. I…I’m. I’m sorry, I won’t do that ever again.” He said tears going down his face.

“You’d better not.” Clay turned and walked away. 

Now that Juice was closer to him, Clay could see that he was tightly holding onto the side of the diaper. Tig must have picked something way too big for juice, as cruel as that was Clay couldn’t help but admire the creativity Tig had put in, especially at such a short amount of time. Juice was in the clubhouse and was so happy to be close to his clothes and a room to change in private that he picked up his pace and let go of the diaper. This of course, just as Tig intended, resulted in the diaper falling down, revealing a good portion of Juices firm ass. Juice was extremely embarrassed, and his blush intensified so much his face was practically red. He pulled his diaper up again and moved much more slowly to the changing room.

Juice was a very happy man when he was in the changing room. He immediately ripped off his diaper and kicked off his boots and went to his locker to get a change of clothes. He tried to think of what the most embarrassing part of his walk was after Hale woke him up. There were all different kinds of people who had borne witness to Tigs prank. Most were onlookers who had seen him just looked at him curiously without saying a word, probably too frightened of the club to laugh. There were others who were more daring, schoolchildren who would point and laugh, middle-aged conservative housewives who outwardly tutted at Juices immodesty while very unsubtly ogling him, and there were even some men who had wolf whistled at him. 

They wouldn’t have done that to another club member , even if he was completely naked, Juice thought. It’s probably because he had built the reputation as being the nicest member of the club. Not that it was a reputation that Juice regretted having but it did make people think they could get away with disrespecting him. There had been one nice spectator, he had been a kid, who had looked at Juice sympathetically. Juice wondered if he was being bullied at school. The kid had offered him his jacked, it wouldn’t have fitted Juice, but he was touched that a complete stranger would be that kind to him. At least, until the kids’ father had roughly grabbed him by the collar and dragged him away screaming at him for being so stupid for even going near a member of the Sons. Juice sighed, poor kid but he needed to put it behind him. Still naked, he opened his locker and moaned in horror. Tig had hid his clothes.

Clay had been feeling guilty for what he had done to Juice. He went into the locker room with the intention of apologizing to Juice about letting Tig go to far. He opened the door and was surprised by what he had could see. Juice was buck naked. Clay remembered fondly how Juice had leapt with a startle sending his surprisingly large cock bouncing and a slapping noise that had permeated through the room when Juices boyish,cute feet made contact with the floor as he landed. Clay almost smiled at the memory when he suddenly recalled how distressed Juice had been and the tears of embarrassment that had welled up in his eyes. Startled Juice had quickly covered himself with his hands and started to beg Clay.

“Please, Clay, man. I know I fucked up. I know that but just give me something to wear, please.” Juice had expected Clay to be sneering at him, but he was surprised that Clays expression was softened by guilt.

“Tig, he must have hidden them. Ill tell him to give me them, right now, “he looked at Juice saw the blood on his chest where he had ripped the sign off, “I’m sorry, I let this happen. I should have stopped Tig.” Juice eyes widened at surprise, he thought he had come to add to his humiliation. 

“Clay, I know I deserved to be punished. I know I risked the clu…” Clay interrupted him.

“Everyone’s fucked up before, they haven’t been put through anything like that. Juice remember you’re not a prospect anymore, you’re a member of this club. You deserve some goddamn respect.” Juice looked absurdly grateful at Clay, especially for the fact that it was ultimately Clays fault for had happened to him today. Juice forgot all about his nudity and walked over to hug Clay. 

Clay almost pushed Juice away, but he relented. Clay was surprised how good it felt, even better than when he held Juice when he and Tig were preparing him earlier. He didnt know if it was the feeling of Juice strong arms wrapped around him or the single tear of gratitude falling onto Clays chest that had made it feel so much better but all he knew was that it had been a long, long time since contact with Gemma had felt even remotely as good. He gingerly slipped out of the hug and awkwardly told Juice. “Um, I’ll just get your clothes back.”

Juice already felt a lot better, after the interaction with clay and the promise of some clothes to wear. Relaxed, he now took the time to look at the mirror in the changing room to survey the wounds left by Tigs stable gun. They weren’t serious as he thought they’d be as looked into the mirror, they wouldn’t leave a real scar, but they still stung like hell. While he was surveying his chest a more serious thought hit him. “Fuck, I’m out of shape.” He quietly muttered to himself. He flexed his arms and was proud that were still large muscles that strained out. I still do look good, he thought smugly to himself, some of the looks he had gathered while walking in the diaper where a testament to that. But good wasn’t enough for Juice, he decided. He had allowed himself to slack off. All the drinking, all the time he had spend coding with snacks on hand had taken their toll. He was going to do something about that.

Clay had walked in with a pair of socks, a pair of cargo pants, a shirt and a pair of boxer shorts. He saw that Juice was flexing in the mirror.

“Something you want to tell me, Juice?” Juice just smiled awkwardly at that.

“It’s just, I feel like I’ve let myself go Clay. I need to get in better shape. I feel like a fuckin…...” and Clay interrupted with a firm slap on his ass. “Wha…”

“Babies don’t swear in this club, Juice. Not if they don’t want a spanking.” Clay was putting on a look of playfulness but inwardly he was horrified. _Why the fuck had I done that for? What if Juice had told the club? Id have become a laughingstock._

Thankfully, Juice had taken it as a joke. He laughed it off and put on his clothes. Over the following months Juice had followed though with his promise to take better care of himself. He worked out in the gym, sparred with either Happy or Jax at night, he had stopped with his sugar and fat laden snacks. It wasn’t too long until Juice was even fitter and stronger than when he had first joined the club.

 _But still not as good as he looks now_. Clay thought to himself, as he watched Juice and Happy walk away to begin their workout routine. He realized he did want Juice after all. But even if Juice wanted him too, where were they going to do it? Clay didn’t want their first time to be in some darkened hallway or on a cold prison bed. He wanted to make love to Juice in a warm soft bed, he wanted to take the time explore every inch of Juices perfect body. However it would happen, Clay was adamant that it wouldn’t be something quick and tawdry. 


	3. The Fight

Juice and Happy where well into their workout when clay was still trying to figure out a way to tell Juice that he wanted from him and more importantly how to convince Juice to reciprocate. _Should I use the president badge get him to agree to it?_ Clay had thought very briefly to himself _. No, never._ Clay was disgusted with himself for even entertaining the idea. He would never coerce him. Besides he wanted his time with Juice, however it would happen, to be one of pleasure and joy not of duty. Should he just convince Juice that both needed an outlet for their frustration in prison. Maybe Juice was gay?

 _Wait, is he gay?_ Juice had never had an old lady. There was apparently a girl that Juice had sometimes crawled back to when he was wounded, he recalled Gemma and Bobby talking about it, but he had never seen her. Clay used to be curious why, all the girls at the club usually threw themselves at Juice. He was buff, pretty and the sweetest guy most of them had ever met. _Most of them would have killed to be his old lady,_ Clay reflected. Juice however seemed content with one-night stands at the club’s parties. _Maybe that was just for the sake of keeping up appearances?_ Clay thought hopefully.

Clay was lost in thought for a few minutes thinking about the problem, then he looked at Juice and Happy again. _Damn shame, the boy wearing a shirt._ Clay had to content with what small joys he got find while in prison, he supposed. They were competing over who good do the most push ups in the shortest amount of time. Juice expression was priceless, while he used to treat the exercises as a fun game, months of competition with someone as serious as Happy had changed Juice, his face was one of boyish determination and self-seriousness. Which, coupled with ultimately how inconsequential the whole thing was, was honestly one of the sweetest things Clay had seen in a very long time. Clay was content to watch until he noticed something. It was two of the spics they had beat in the basketball game and one of them was holding a rock.

 _They can’t possibly be that petty?_ But they were. Clay tried to shout a warning which didn’t carry over the yard. Happy was the first to notice them, they were practically on top of them, when Happy shouted at Juice who quickly lifted his head to see the men who planned to attack them. The one holding the rock, the fat one who had swung at Juice earlier, was the member the gang had chosen to beat Juice up. He was bearing down at Juice and he raised the arm that was holding the rock to attack Juice…..who quickly leapt up from the position he was in, with a grace and quickness that Clay had was surprised Juice had, and before the Mexican man had time to react Juice punched him the face, hard. 

Juice was a lot stronger than people thought. The fact that he had a much more lean physique compared to the bulk of Happy or Clay himself made people think of Juice only as the short, skinny one of the group. Especially when he was wearing his hood and cut, or in this case oversized prison uniform, that people forgot how ripped the boy was. It was a mistake the fat man was learning; Clay could see the sturdy muscles cording around Juices lean arms as punched the man as hard and as fast as he could. Juice was trying to use his other arm to pry the rock out of the man’s hand. However, he was stubborn and refused to let go, so he kept clutching and Juice kept punching.

Happy wasn’t as quick to react, the other gang members had time to kick Happy straight in the face. This left a gash in the side of Happys face. He didn’t react at all, which the gang member found disconcerting, in fact it rather frightened him. In that second of hesitation and confusion, Happy grabbed his leg and threw him to the ground. Helpless, the member struggled to get up but Happy clamped down on his leg again and the man knowing that Happy was far too strong for him to pry himself free froze up. He already knew what Happy was going to do and he looked at Happy pleadingly not to do it. Happy however wasn’t in the mood for mercy, he made a low animal-like growl and then, with pleasure in his eyes that didn’t spread to his scowling face, shattered the inmate’s leg.

 _Well, at least Happy can claim self-defence._ The bloody wound on his face was evidence of that. _Juice however…._ Juice was still punching the man, who had let go of the rock. The fat man’s face was covered in blood at this point. Clay was worried about Juice, not especially about him getting into trouble, everyone had seen the man trying to attack juice. No, it was the look of pure, bestial rage on Juices face as he beat the man. Has life in prison caused Juice to snap? Has Juice been taking it a lot worse than Clay had ever anticipated or noticed? _Nice Guys usually snap the hardest_ , Clay reflected. _I probably shouldn’t have asked Juice to go to prison_ , Clay thought, _the boy wasn’t made for it_ , he should have asked Opie or Kozik to come in his place. 

When Juice had stopped the fat mans was barely conscious, his face bloody and was only making soft groaning noises as he lay on the ground. Juice had regained his senses, he looked rather guilty about what he had done and frightened, Clay didn’t know whether it was over the momentary lapse of control or the thought of being punished by the guards. Juice realized things were bad and got on his knees with his hands on the back of his head. The guards were already arriving and leading them was Officer Plemons.

 _This is bad_ , Clay realized as the guards took both Happy and Juice away. Even worse they didn’t know what Plemons might do. The club had never really interacted with him before, when they were setting up bribes to protect himself in jail it was with an Officer with a lot of clout they had previously worked with before, Officer Thompson. He usually arranged things, so the club could spend their time in prison unmolested. He was usually very good at his job and kept to his word but when Plemons started to pick on Juice he told the club he would need more money to bribe the freak into leaving Juice alone. When he received it, he honoured his word and Plemons stopped. However, Thompson made it very clear that it still wasn’t an absolute guarantee that Plemons would restrain himself. “Just make sure your boy doesn’t do anything stupid,” he instructed Clay, “if he has an actual reason to punish Juice all bets are off. Plemons…. he’s built up a bit of a reputation.” And now this same man was roughly handling Juice as he was being dragged off the yard. 

Juice was frightened as he was being led through the dark corridors of Stockton prison, there were two guards flanking him. Plemons had told them to take responsibility for Juice while he was off to report what had happened in the yard, he told them he was still planning to process Juice personally later. The thought made him sick, he remembered his first month at Stockton and how Plemons would paw and stare at him. Mostly though he felt ashamed and embarrassed, of how he let Clay down, how he might have caused problems for the club and for how he had lost control of himself like that when he was beating the fat gang member. 

“Fuck, I’ll be turning into Tig or Happy soon.” Juice muttered quietly to himself. One of the guards heard him and roughly pushed him to keep quiet. They took him to a small room with an open shower in it. It was little more than a shower head protruding from the wall and a drain on the tile floor. Juice realised what was about to happen and he groaned. Juice had never been a particularly modest man, the rest of the club had already seen him naked and vice versa, he didn’t mind that they were his brothers. He was also pretty sure that everyone at the club had seen him undressed one way or other while he was drunk at one of the club’s parties. But life in Stockton was different. Life was designed to be as humiliating and degrading as possible.

But there was no use in trying to stall or stop it. Juice had learned that on his first day. When he was marched into a room with a guard to strip search him. After Juice had awkwardly removed his leather, his rings and most of his clothes before, when he was just in his boxers, he had broken down and pleaded with the guard to let him preserve some of his dignity. Juice tries to recall exactly what he had said. “Come on man, you can tell I don’t have anything on me. Please, just let me keep it on! Look I didn’t know I was going to be arrested today, you really think I have a shiv stored up my ass, just in case?” He had said with an impish smile, trying to make a joke of it. The humorless guard hadn’t responded to Juices words and continued with the strip search. More roughly and thoroughly than he would have if Juice had just kept his mouth shut. There was no getting out of this, he accepted. So, without needing to be prompted Juice started to take of his sweaty, blood stained clothes. 

The guards watched as Juice stripped with a detached clinical look on their faces. It was still horrible, but it wasn’t nearly as bad as the looks he had received in the last year, the hungry lustful stares from other inmates, the perverse sadistic glee off some of the guards. The guards picked up his clothes and carefully packaged them for evidence later. Juice walked over to the shower and saw a bottle of body wash and some shampoo and they looked like they were good quality. Juice was confused, he probably needed them, his body was covered in sweat and dirt from his time in the yard, but he wondered why he was given them. The prison guards don’t give a shit about the inmates being clean and most of them liked reminding the inmates that they were little more than animals.

Not asking questions, Juice turned on the shower and gritted his teeth as the water hit him. The water from the showers in Stockton wasn’t freezing but it would be an exaggeration to describe them as even lukewarm. Juice, realizing this would probably be the last time he would have access to decent cleaning supplies until his release, tried to be as thorough as he possibly could while he was showering. When the shower ended, Juice was given a towel to dry himself. He was given a new prison uniform and was instructed to follow the two guards again. He wondered where they were taking him, he thought they were taking him to solitary for a few days as punishment, but this wasn’t the way. His question was answered when they lead him to a room. The room was slightly more pleasant than most other rooms in the prison, the walls paint looked freshly applied, the furnishing were slightly less austere than what Juice was used to by now and there was plenty of daylight coming from the window at the right side wall. Was this one of the rooms where new prisoners were processed? Juice heard footsteps approaching behind him and when they entered the room Juice could see who they belonged to. 

It was Officer Plemons.


	4. Juices Punishment

Plemons wasn’t an intimidating man, he had a rather nondescript face, with no memorial facial features and a false, artificial smile. He had an average height and built. He very rarely raised his voice and preferred talking in a calm manner. All in all, it seemed like the only way he should be working with criminals was as a social worker. This was the impression that the club had until they heard the whispered rumours about him, about how he was a pervert and a sadist and even the strongest, bravest prisoners did their best to avoid his attention. While he did regularly harass and molest inmates of any colour, it was evident he had a specific interest in muscular brown men and unfortunately for the club, they had two of them in Happy and Juice.

Plemons was alone in all the inhabitants of Stockton in that he didn’t have or at least display the slightest fear of Happy. Even other guards would avoid upsetting Happy, some even undermining their authority by backing way when he glared at them. But not Plemons, he treated Happy like any other inmate. Happy however wasn’t as interesting too Plemons as Juice was, too old, too covered in tattoos, too angry and stoic for Plemons taste. 

And now Juice was in a room with him. He was silently staring at Juice in away that made him feel dirty, like something was squirming and exploring underneath his clothes. Plemons was still staring at him not saying a word. Juice was beginning to shuffle awkwardly, and the roof of his mouth was dry. He knew there was no point in protesting but even still he felt the words forming in his stupid mouth.

“You…you can’t do this. They’ve already checked me out, you can’t do it twice.” Juice tried nervously to force a defiant smirk on his lips, but it was a completely hallow gesture and everyone in the room knew it.

“They searched you? You must be mistaken, there’s no mention of that in the report I have. Indeed, there’s no mention of them interacting with you at all,” the guard to Juices right smiled at that, “it’s just been me and you, Juice. And I have to be clear the way you act in this room will determine whether I tell the higher ups whether you attacked the other inmate unprovoked or whether you were defending yourself.” Juice felt the blood leaving his face.

“You can’t to that. I won’t let you, you can’t….” Juice trailed off terrified, in his panic forgetting there were plenty of other witnesses to confirm that the man was going to attack him. 

“I’m fascinated what control you think you have over the situation. Now, no matter what version of the truth I tell them, it will be obvious you were a very naughty boy out there today. You’re a danger, a menace who knows what you could be carrying on you. I really have no choice but to give you a thorough search of your entire body.” Whilst Plemons was wearing an expression of mock sympathy on his face, his eyes were shining with triumph and anticipation.

“Bull…. bullshit.” Juice muttered disbelievingly to himself, but he knew Plemons was the sort of person to lie and get his stay extended. He tried to say something more to protest but no words would form. He just awkwardly stood there, quietly waiting for Plemons to begin.

“You two, leave the room,” Plemons gestured at the men, “close the door. I want some alone time with Mr. Ortiz.” Juice heard the creak of the door as it shut. “Now then, Juice, you know what to do.”

Juices nervous hands moved like someone had broken them. His fingers fumbled clumsily as he took off his newly given prisoner outfit. Plemons didn’t mind how slow Juice was going, it added to the fun but when Juice was down to his underpants and his socks he stopped. He was awkwardly looking around the room. Was he hoping there was someone coming to help him? “No, Juice. Take those off. Now.” Plemons said in an authoritative manner, like a teacher addressing a student. Juice groaned miserably but did as he was told and bared himself. 

Plemons gazed approvingly at him. Juices physique had approved considerably since he first entered prison. He could see that when he watched Juices playing in the yard but being able to examine him naked and vulnerable at his own leisure made it so much more apparent. Plemons eyes devoured Juices, lovingly staring at every single aspect of his nude body. Eventually Plemons leering got too much for Juice who turned around, momentarily relieved to feel free of Plemons gaze. The relief lasted a few seconds as Juice heard the guards footsteps approach him. Juice gasped as he felt Plemons hands gently caressing his ass.

Juices body was so rigid and tense that he could have been a statue. Ironic, Plemons thought to himself as he continued to stroke and squeeze Juices buttocks, considering how much he looks like a Greek god. The guard thought Juices ass was exquisite, taut and toned, and as firm and smooth as marble. Juice was getting more and more uncomfortable he tried to turn his head around to look at what Plemons was doing to him. Only for Plemons left hand to clamp down onto his neck to stop him. Without saying anything the guard continued his exploration, he placed a single finger on the top of Juices thigh then ran them gently along the graceful curve of Juices buttock and left it resting on his lower back. Eventually, he got bored and he grabbed hold of Juices sinewy left shoulder and impatiently turned the swarthy Adonis around so he could examine the front of him too.

When Juice was facing Plemons again he was startled by how the man the was looking at him. His eyes where lustful and his lips where wet from where he’d been licking them. Juice quickly placed his hands over his genitals to cover himself not wanting the freak to leer at him. Plemons didn’t mind at all, Juice covering himself allowed him to admire his musculature more. He also didn’t want Juice to get so nervous that his fidgeting would start to annoy him. The inmates current mood suited him just fine and it was providing him with quite a lot of entertainment. Plemons was a good reader of body language and what he saw pleased him. The toes of Juices cute feet curling, his large, brown beautiful eyes darting around the room, the dance of the muscles in his chest and stomach as he took in heavier and heavier breaths. 

Plemons also appreciated other change in Juices appearance. He was happy that Juice had grown his hair out, the mohawk had been vulgar and those lighting rod tattoos on the side of his head had been absurd, Plemons thought. He also liked the facial hair growing on Juices face, it made him look more mature and it brought out Juices Latin heritage a lot more. Plemons moved his fingers lovingly through Juices dark brown hair. After he took his hands away from Juices head, he caressed the mans jaw feeling the slight stubble that Juice had been growing and ran one finger over the thin moustache on his upper lip. He led his finger to rest on the gap inbetween Juices moustache. “Now Juice, I’m still not sure if you’re hiding a weapon on me,” Plemons said mockingly, “so I need you to open your mouth up.”

Juice fearfully obeyed, almost instantly. “Good boy.” Plemons said. He was worried he might have to threaten Juice to get him to obey him and he was enjoying himself too much to have his fun interrupted. He produced a torchlight and shone it into Juices mouth. He feigned a look of confusion. “Looks good, Juice. But sometimes what people can see is deceptive. Sometimes the only thing people can trust is what they can feel.” And then without any fear of Juice biting down he stuck his fingers into young mans sweet,warm mouth. He explored the area thoroughly, the tips of his fingers prodding along his tongue and his teeth. When he took his fingers out, he could see Juice was looking at him in a rather perplexed state. He’s probably wondering what I could possibly find enjoyable about that, Plemons thought. Well, the look of sweet, innocent confusion on the boys beautiful face made it worth doing alone.

And Plemons did find Juice beautiful. His face was almost perfect in his eyes, the only imperfection that Plemons could see was that his nose was a bit too big, and imperfections added character to a person, he thought. 

He rested his hand on Juices toned chest and slowly moved his hands over his stomachs, stopping just above Juices groin before moving his hand up again. He repeated this process a few more times, exploring every hill and valley of Juices pectoral and abdominal muscles.

“Tell me, Juice,” Plemons inquired, as he swirled his finger around the hard contour of one of Juices abs, “were you really the intelligence officer of the sons of anarchy? The perfection of your body suggests they had a very different role for you.” Juice blushed at the suggestion but then he snapped out of his broken submissiveness towards the guard and glared at him. 

No, Juice thought, no one gets to take that from him. He was the tech member of the sons, there were other sons who were braver, stronger, smarter, harder than he was but that was the one thing he did better than anyone else. “I was,” he told the perverted guard proudly, “no one else could do it. I kept all the tech up to date. I got the club intel no one else could.”

Plemons just looked at Juice for a few seconds. He was hoping that Juice would have remained biddable and tractable throughout their session. He didn’t expect a comment of all things to be what made the biker rediscover some backbone. He sighed, outlaws and their ridiculous codes of honour confounded him sometimes. He put his hands on Juices wrists, gently. With a smile he informed Juice “It’s time to see if you’re hiding anything around your most precious parts.”

Plemons was expecting Juice to plead, to hesitate, to have to make him move his hands away from his groin. Instead, the biker lifted his hands without protest and placed them behind his head. The guard frustrated by Juices attitude still took the time to admire what he saw. Despite Juice reputation as the little one of the sons he was surprisingly well endowed and the size of his genitals where accentuated when contrasted against the mans slim, smooth body. Plemons produced a pen and used it to lift Juices cock by its tip to expose his sack. Plemons turned his neck up to look at Juices face to see the embarrassment he was expecting. Instead he was giving Plemons a look of proud defiance. He even thought he saw some pride in Juices eyes too. As if he knew he had attributes that Plemons would kill for. Irritable at this turn of events, he grabbed Juices foreskin and pulled it back roughly. 

This elicited a sharp intake of breath from Juice, as the sudden sharp pain caused him to back up a bit. Suddenly Juice looked embarrassed and helpless again remembering the situation he was in and how much power he had in his current state. Good, Plemons, though he still wasn’t as broken as he was a few minutes ago. So the guard then take hold of Juices balls. 

As Plemons began to gleefully squeeze and play with his captives testicles he saw the remains of the tough facade Juice had briefly demonstarted fall apart. He was trying to keep his proud defiant smirk on his pretty mouth but it was straining,trembling. And Juices large doe like eyes where once again darting around the room in a panic trying to avoid Plemons as he stared into his handsome swarthy face. Juice would have stared at his feet like a sullen boy but when he looked down he was greeted with the disgusting vision of his brown family jewels being played with by the sadistic freaks bare hands. The guard was fully back to enjoying himself and had then decided to increase the severity of his grip, letting Juice have a little taste of pain as well as embarassment. 

The effects where immediate as they where beautiful. Juice let out a sharp exhale of breathe at the sudden pain then he promptly closed his mouth shut as tightly as he could to avoid letting out any whimpers or gasps Plemons harsh squeezing were forming in his body. Oh, Juice, Plemons thought almost pitying the prisoner, if you honestly think you can deny me youre pain youre more stupid then i assumed. He placed one of Juices testicles between his thumb and index finger and then pinched down, hard. Juice face scrunched up in pain but he closed his eyes endured the sudden agony as silently as he could. Plemons seeing this as a fun little challange just took hold of Juices other testicle and pinched again. This time Juice let a whimper escape his lips but it wasnt enough for the guard who just moved his hand over and repeated the process. 

As Pleomons continued this little game, Juice gave up trying to keep himself quiet to his own great shame and soon there was a chorous of whimpers and moans echoing through the room. Music to accompany Plemons as he played with his new favourite instrument. He also enjoyed the show Juices body was making beyond his face. Juices muscular upper body seemed to be doing a performance on their own. Juices tightly toned pectoral,abdominal and serratus muscles where all tensing and writhing and raising up and down as Plemons went about his fun. Like a dance to accompany the chorous his toment of the man was making. The guard decided to finish his performance by grabbing both of Juices balls in his palm and squeezed extremely hard. 

Juice doubled down at the shock of the pain, his hands fell from the back of his head as he moved them to nurse his sore flesh. Only for Plemons to slap his hands reminding him where they should be. Juice reluctantly brought them back around his head. At the same time Plemons had grabbed onto the top of Juices head as he threatened to slouch from the pain he was in and roughly forced him to stand up straight again not wanting the beautiful view in front of him to be obstructed in anyway. He saw that there were some slight tears forms forming in his big brown eyes. Juice would have gladly wiped them away with his arm but he was too frightened of Plemons too move his arms from their position locked behind his back. Juice felt disgusted with himself, he was member of the sons of anarchy MC not a little kid, he should have the courage to summon even a meager defiance of the law, however small. 

The guard ended the dilemma for Juice by wiping the tears off using his fingers and proceeded to suck them. Plemons then looked at Juices stomach rising and falling more rapidly than ever. At one point Juice abs looked virtually perfect, like a piece of greek sculpture that had a sheet of light brown silk placed over it. The guard noticed a bead of sweat forming between Juices pecs, he placed a fingertip above it and he decided to trail it behind the sweat as it began its journey down the prisoners beautiful body. The finger gently traced along Juices chest, between his tight ab crack, along his shaven smooth groin and along his cock before flicking it off from the tip. He licked the sweat off the fingertip, moaning as he enjoyed the salty taste of the man. 

This was too much for Juice who backed away on instinct. Annoyed, Plemons caught Juice before he made more than a few steps. He then grabbed Juices left ear and pulled him forwards. He looked at how mortified Juice was at the infantilizing treatment, there was even a blush breaking out through his brown skin. He then made Juice step back a few steps until he was in the exact same position he was in previously. Plemons then slapped juices naked ass,lightly, his intent to humiliate not to harm. 

"None of that, prisoner. You stand where youre told." Plemons then delivered another, much sharper slap to Juices buttocks. Plemons appreciated how firm and toned they where and enjoyed the feeling of the rock hard muscle underneath the smooth,soft skin of the latino man. 

"Yeah," Juice stammered quickly, his voice a mixture of extreme embarassment and hatred, "yeah, sorry man." But that wasnt enough for Plemons who slapped his tight,hard ass a third time, even harder than the last blow. Judging by how much his hand stinged from hitting Juices sexy firm bottom and how Juices expression was one of shock and mortification rather than pain, it must have very much hurt him more than it hurt Juice.

"Im sorry, Juice. That wasnt a very good apology. Speak Properly."

" "Ye...yes, sir. Ill be good." 

"Thats a clever boy." Plemons then decided to move on and continue the rest of his exploration.

“Now,where haven’t we looked yet?” he playfully asked, “Ah yes, underneath your arms.” Juice just thought that was stupid, he was already holding up his arms, revealing his smooth armpits. Still, the guard made a show of checking. He started by placing his hand on Juices elbow and slid his fingers along the forearm, enjoying the feeling of the large bumps of the firm, sturdy muscles. He rang his thumb over Juices armpit and continued to trail it over the side of Juices body.

“Now, were almost finished, my beauty.” Plemons promised. Juice just looked curiously at him, he’d already been checked everywhere, there wasn’t anywhere else to prod or study. Plemons seemed to sense Juices confusion. “Your feet. I need to examine them for contraband. Now turn around and lift your legs up.” Juice turned around, happy that he didn’t have to endure this for much longer. Plemons had thought that Juice would have ugly feet, that a life of hard physical work would have left them calloused or damaged in some way. Instead, they were was just as cute as the rest of their owner. 

“Good, now lift them up. Higher. That’s good,” Plemons fixed the light of his torch onto Juices soles, “now,lets see if youre hiding any contraband between your toes. Let me see in between them. Go on, let those sweet little piggy’s roam free.” Juices face scrunched up in embarrassment. Just what the freak wants, he realised, but he wanted to make life easier for himself so he followed his commands. Juice made a show of spreading and wiggling his toes, to little coos of pleasure from the corrupt officer behind Juice. Plemons looked satisfied but then an idea struck him. He roughly pushed Juice against a nearby wall. “Put your hands on the wall,” He commanded, when Juice did, he added another instruction, “now raise your feet up gain.” Juice blinked in confusion, he thought the session was over and why would Plemons want to do something twice in a row? Uncertainly, he raised his foot up. 

Plemons grabbed hold of Juices ankle. Juice didn’t know what was going to happen, but he figured it was going to be as humiliating and weird as everything else the perverted guard did. He placed his free hand on Juice shapely calf and slowly moved his hand down the toned prisoners lower leg, he very gently then gripped Juices raised foot with his free hand, his thumb on the sole, his other fingers on the top of his foot. He then started to rub and knead it very gently with his hand. “What the hell?” Juice whispered to himself quietly. Plemons ignored him, after he was finished with the strange massage, he lowered himself and started to rub his face over Juice foot. He then began to leave a trial of kisses down it, starting from Juices toes to along the rest of the sole until he finished at the heel. Juice was really beginning to panic, he was squirming and digging his nails into the wall, this was perhaps the most uncomfortable thing he’d gone through so far. And that was saying a lot. 

Plemons was enjoying Juices obvious discomfort but not as much as was enjoying his current activity. As he continued to kiss Juices feet he was pleasantly surprised how fresh and clean and soft they were, more like a boys if anything. Juice was a very boyish man Plemons realized, from his naivete, and innocence and the deference he showed to older men to his physical features. His soft,warm, unblemished skin and his large, open, expressive eyes. The only real evidence he was a man besides his height was his tattoos,his well endowed genitals and how wiry and muscular his body was. He temporarily stopped his kisses and placed Juices toes in his mouth and began to suck them. He imagined they tasted like caramel fitting Juices skin colour. 

As he delighted in the groaning noises Juice made in responce, a thought occurred to him. Juice was a member of a very, violent outlaw club, in all probability this wouldnt be the worst thing to happen to him for what remained of his life. He would remember Plemons and their time together certainly but it wouldnt be what kept Juice awake at night or occupied his nightmares and that wouldnt do at all. He stopped sucking Juices toes,letting the now wet cute little digits go and wiggle freely. He looked at the light brown skin of Juices bare foot and give it one last kiss. The last thing that would touch the soles of Juices feet while they remained intact.

Juice heard Plemons mutter something. It was said too faintly for Juice to make out, but it sounded apologetic, almost remorseful. Juice didn’t find that comforting, at all. If it was bad enough for Plemons to feel like he needed to apologize in advance about, it most be something terrible. Juice didn’t have to wait long to find out what it was. Plemons produced a thin baton, or was it a small cane? Then he raised it in the air and brought it down to connect with the sole of Juices left foot.

Juice heard the soft noise of the instrument landing on his flesh and then he felt the pain racing up his body, finally exploding in his brain. He buckled against it, if Plemons wasn’t holding his leg up and his hands weren’t braced against the wall he would have fallen. He bit down on his lower lip, trying to stop any sound of pain escaping his lips but, embarrassingly for Juice, a soft whimper escaped from his mouth. Juice didn’t even have to look down to know how much pleasure Plemons got from that. Satisfied, he raised his arm again to deliver another blow.

Plemons rained blow after blow on his captive. Juice didn’t know any real way to cope with the mounting pain, so he pressed his head against the wall and prayed that the sadistic officer didn’t notice the tears that were openly running down his cheeks. But Plemons did notice. He looked up every few seconds to admire the affect his handy work was doing on Juice. He found it rather amusing that despite everything that had been done to him and was currently happening to Juice, the inmate was still mainly concerned with trying to preserve any manly dignity that he could. Outlaw logic, Plemons sneered. The treatment had produced other affects he had found much more pleasing. Juice body had tensed up, both as a response to the pain and to ready himself for the blows, which really accentuated and defined the already toned muscles of his athletic physique. He had broken out in a sweat, which left a pleasant sheen on his beautiful, golden skin.

Throughout the beating Juices whimpers had becomes yelps, which had finally devolved into a scream in the last blow he’d been dealt. Plemons smiled in satisfaction and looked to admire his handwork and he promptly realised he had gone too far, when he saw the condition of Juices left foot. There were livid red stripes across them that were bleeding, rather profusely, and there were already purple bruises forming as well. Oh dear, Plemons thought, a few more blows and I could have left the boy with permanent damage. He let go of Juices left ankle and immediately his leg dropped like a stone, Plemons probably should have lowered it more slowly. When Juices battered foot connected with the concrete floor, his leg spasmed and he leapt up in a desperate attempt to escape the pain. He wasn’t going to be walking properly for the next week or two, at the very least. Oh well, Plemons shrugged. He’ll be nicer on the other one.

“Now boy, raise your right leg next.” Plemons ordered pleasantly. 

Juice couldn’t properly think straight at this point. The accumulation of all the pain, humiliation that he had suffered today due to his stupid decisions at the yard was overwhelming and confusing him. Juice mind felt like it was going all loud, the way it used to before he met the club. But almost sounded like Plemons wanted to beat both his feet? No, he couldn’t be that cruel...

“What? You’re gonna…. you’re gonna do more? Please don’t. I cant take anymore.” Juice turned around to plead with him, giving Plemons a look at his big, tear filled eyes. It probably wasn’t the wisest idea, evident by the sudden pleasure lighting up in his. “Please? I’m sorry, I went too far with that guy but I…”

Plemons interrupted him. “Id hardly call it to “too far” with that man. His face is pulp,” that was an exaggeration, but Juice didn’t need to know that, “you need to be punished. Now if you don’t like it this, we can have your stay at Stockton increased or I can clamp down hard on your friends. They don’t seem to be a good influence on the rest of the inmates.” He knew that either of those threats would have got Juice to behave. Juice turned his head back to face the wall. Plemons thought that was the end of the topic, until Juice interrupted with one more plea.

“Can’t you just hit another part of me? Please?” Juice begged. Irritated Plemons, walked over and placed the tip of the baton on the inside of Juices right thigh. Without saying a word he slowly ran it up along the sensitive flesh, gliding it along Juices perineum, and then lowered it down his left thigh.

“No, no, Juice,” Plemons said gently, “Its not a punishment if you decide you want it,” his baton was still making its journey along Juices body, “it would be a big abdication of my responsibility as a guard. And Juice? if you truly wanted a choice, let me give you one. If you don’t present your right foot in the next minute or offer one more word of protest. Ill taser you and deliver twice as many blows to the most tender part of your body.” Plemons pushed his baton harshly against Juices testicles, just in case he missed the hint. Juice choked down a sob, this wasn’t fair, he hadn’t done anything to deserve this, but he also knew he had no choice. Leaning even more heavily against the wall, he raised his right leg, meekly presenting the second part of his pair of adorable feet to receive more punishment.

Plemons had kept to his promise of being gentler with Juice on the second beating. Even still, Juice right foot was battered,bruised and scarred by the time the final stroke had been delivered, When Plemons indicated he was finished with him and it was time to stop leaning against the wall, Juice found all he could manage was an awkward, shuffling gait before the pain shooting up from his soles caused him to collapse into the floor. Plemons couldn’t help but laugh at the pathetic, comical spectacle Juice had made of himself. I won’t be able to get much more fun out of him for much longer, he realised sighing. Plemons wasn’t ready to go back to his job. He wasn’t ready to go back to dealing with disciplinary issues, trying to find contraband, having to train new recruits over how life in Stockton worker.

Juice was still lying on the dirty, cold concrete floor, still naked like an animal. He wanted to try to get up again and dress himself, but he was too terrified of what the sadistic guard might do to him, if he did something against his wishes. And judging by the way Plemons was looking at him, he wanted Juice to stay exactly as he was. Plemons stared at Juice, before he crotched down towards him. Juice tried to back away awkwardly, as quickly as he could in his current condition, scared that the guard might add another painful twist to his and Juices little secession. Instead, Plemons gave him a tender, gentle kiss on his forehead.

“You were a brave boy, Juice,” he said, while petting Juices head like he was a dog, “I think after that you earned yourself a treat.” He placed a hand into his pocket and produced a bar of chocolate. He broke a piece off and held it in front of Juices face. 

Any other son would have attacked Plemons by now, Juice thought. Happy would have ripped the man’s smug face off. They wouldn’t have allowed themselves to be treated like this, for any reason. There were real Sons whose presence alone demanded respect. If the way Juice had so quickly submitted to treatment like this, he must be nothing more than a pretender, he thought ashamed of himself. He wanted to slap the candy out of Plemons hand, to spit in his face but he didn’t want any more pain, he didn’t want to cause the club any trouble. Juice opened his mouth and let Plemons insert the sugary treat into his mouth. As Plemons withdrew his hand, he couldn’t resist letting one of his fingers linger on Juices lips for a few seconds.

“See? Good, isn’t it?” Plemons asked. Juice didn’t really know how to respond to that, so he just gave the guard a little nod. After Juice finished his snack, he just lay there. His time with Plemons must be coming to an end soon. This was apparent in the disappointed look on the guard’s face. He wasn’t doing anything now, he just kept staring at Juice taking in the view for a few more precious minutes before it ended. The signal that it had was the sudden loud banging on the door to the room. Juice could hear a man’s voice, one of the guards who had escorted him through the prison after the fight, shouting.

“C’mon, Plemons, man. Times up. The time you’ve bought up ended,” the door was unlocked, and the man walked through, “I’ve got to get hi...” he trailed off, shocked by what he had seen. Plemons had built up a reputation for being a sadist and pervert but he had thought a lot of that was just hyperbole to scare the inmates. He had thought that when Plemons paid him to bring Juice to him it was just to put him through some embarrassment by staging a mock strip search. Against the rules but sometimes these animals needed a little more punishment to keep them in line.

The prisoner was still naked, the guard noticed irritably, Plemons had promised to have him dressed and ready at the designated time. He was lying on his stomach, sprawled on the floor, looking rather small and vulnerable. Plemons was towering above him, with a haughty, self-satisfied demeaner. It looked like a scene from ancient times, with a slave prostrate before his master. Then he noticed the bloody footprints on the bare floor.

“Shit, Plemons. What the fuck did you do?” he walked around and examined Plemons handy work. There was a sharp intake of breath, as hew saw the state of Juices feet. As he looked at the nasty red stripes across both of them, he became furious. “What the fuck!? You really think you can just do shit like this? How do you think I’m going to explain this?”

“I can and you won’t,” Plemons explained calmly. "No one will care what happened to him and I doubt Mr. Ortiz will make an official complaint,” he turned now to address the prisoner “Will you, Juice?”. The guard saw Juice quickly nod his head timidly. 

“But you do have a right to be concerned. Mr. Ortiz needs a reminder of what going against the prison entails. Put him in solitary for a short time. He needs it anyway to calm down, you saw his behaviour today.” The other guard felt that was a very unfair characterisation of what happened. Juice was a well-behaved prisoner, even most of the guards secretly liked him though they’d never show it. If there was anyone who deserved to suffer because of the fight it was the fat man, Miguel, who had started it. He’d built up a reputation as being on the hardest inmates to control anyway. But the other guard knew he was implicated in Plemons actions and so went along with his suggestion.

Juice had begun to cry quietly. So upset by what he had heard Plemons say he didn’t even try to hide his tears by burying his face in his arms or on the floor. He felt his chest tighten up and he started to rapidly intake breaths. He was dreading even the thoughts of solitary. It might help to calm down the more introspective members of the club like Jax or Bobby, but Juice was a very friendly,outgoing man and being alone made him deeply unhappy and anxious.

While Juice lay on the floor, the other guard had picked his clothes. The guard commanded him. “Inmate, get dressed. It’s time to leave.” He had said sharply, nudging Juice on the ribs with his boot. When Juice didn’t respond or even gave any indication that he’d heard him, the guard gently shook him and asked again much more gently. “Come on, Juice, you have to get up and put your your clothes on if you want to get out of here.”

Juice head had pricked up at those words, a very slight smile of relief appearing on his face. At that moment, he was still nervous and frightened at what was ahead of him. But the thought of the worst being behind him and getting as far away from Plemons as he could immediately improved Juice mood considerably. The guard seeing that Juice was going to need help standing up put his arm around the prisoner and lifted him up. The guard helped Juice dress himself, he was much more patient and gentle with him than Juice was expecting. Plemons took the time to watch, his eyes feasting on every inch of Juices bare body, one last time, before it was covered by the fabric of the prison uniform.

When they were done and before Juice could be escorted out, Plemons came over to interact with him one last time. Juice quickly tried to avoid his gaze by turning his head to look at the ground. But Plemons placed his hands-on Juices chin and forced him to look at him. Juices face was trembling, while Plemons was serene. The only words he said were “I’ll look forward for the opportunity to do this again.” Juice was horrified at the prospect, as Plemons smiled and left the room without saying another word. The guard wanting to distract Juice, gently told him.

“Juice, we have to go now. Ill take you to medical before I put you in solitary.” Juice couldn’t manage anything more than a slow, clumsy shuffle as he walked besides the guard. There was a sharp spike of pain with every step he took. He knew he made an embarrassing sight but, mercifully, the guard pretended not to notice it.

The doctor at the medical room cleaned and bandaged Juices feet, before giving him something for the pain. After, Juice was escorted by the guard to the single cell that he was going to be staying in. It was spartan even by the standards of Stockton. Its only furnishing were a bare bed and a steel toilet. The only source of light was a dim, flickering florescent light on the ceiling. 

As the guard opened the metal door and Juice looked in, he briefly entertained the idea of running. He really didn’t want to do this, he was dreading it, he wanted to be back with the club, with Clay particularly. But he knew if he misbehaved again, Plemons would have another opportunity to punish him. The thought of that nearly made Juice vomit. So, trying to look brave, he stepped into the isolation cell without a word of protest.

As he heard the door being shut and locked, he broke down. He started to hyperventilate, and he cried so hard that he felt snot running coming down his nose. He felt his chest tightening and his breathing increased, much worse than he was in the cell, he was getting dizzy. Was he having a panic attack? There was nothing to distract him, the cell was so dark that Juice could just about see his hands in front of him. Juice tried to think about something to calm him down. 

“Clay,” Juice muttered to himself, “When I get out Clay will make things right, Clay will help me. He’ll help me”. Juice kept repeating this to himself until he felt the worst of his anxiety subside. Juice tried to think about what he was going to tell the club what had happened to him, when they asked or how he was going to avoid Plemons. He kept thinking and thinking, until he realized there was no good ideas appearing in his head. Giving up, he lay down on his side on the bed. He curled into a ball, his knees drawn to his chest and he eventually sunk into a fitful sleep.


	5. Aftermath: Clay

Clay had felt sick to his stomach as he watched Juice being dragged off. Happy was being pulled by the guards to the inside of the prison to but Clay wasn’t as worried about him. Happy could handle himself. Besides, Happy was for too blunt an instrument for a freak like Plemons too torture, he didn’t have the sensitive depths that Juice had for the sadist too really hurt him. He tried to give a reassuring smile at Juice as the door of the prison closed behind him, but the kid was too nervous, his large doe eyes wide with terror, too notice it.  
Clay was frightened for him too, but he was also furious. At the spics, at that disgusting freak Plemons, at Juice too a little for doing something so stupid to get himself in trouble but mostly at himself. He felt blood trickling down his palms as his nails dug in. He never should have allowed the match to happen, he should have seen that the scum were unstable, he had totally misread the situation and fundamentally the responsibility was on him as president. Now a third of their club was in lockdown, two of his most loyal soldiers at that, and Jax would have another excuse to question his leadership.  
No one in the group had said anything, they were still shocked at how things could rapidly change for the worst so fast, mostly they were quiet out of fear of upsetting Clay. Their president was in one of his moods and they knew that no one, not even Tig, could reason with him. But they needed to have a plan, eventually Jax summoned the courage to ask.  
“What’s the plan, Clay?” Clay whipped around sharply at that  
“Plan? What plan?” Clay started to pace relentlessly “There’s nothing we can do. There’s Jackie fucking Chan that we can do!!!!” Clay was purpling out of sheer anger. Bobby deciding to interject, even while Clay insisted that Bobby was nothing but an irritating, cowardly pest he still ultimately listened to his advice.  
“Jax is right, Clay. We need a plan. Look Juice and Happy are going to be punished for what happened, today. Lets just hope it will just be a few days in solitary. Now we need to contact, Thompson, tell him we need…” Clay exploded then  
“Fuck, Thompson. You heard what he’d said. If Plemons gets an excuse to hurt Juice hell take it. Christ knows what he’s doing to him now. He’s fucked!”  
“Hopefully, not literally,” Tig smirked, choosing possibly the worst time to try to add levity to the situation, “ Freaks probably got the Rican in a little sombrero” and Clay punched him so hard Tig was thrown to the asphalt of the yard.  
“Juice is a fucking Son, Tig! A brother!!!” Tig had never seen Clay so angry in his life, he was practically snarling on top of him. He was afraid if he made the wrong comment Clay would stomp his face to pulp, so he just lay on the ground in silence, shocked. Bobby interjected, placing himself between Clay and Tig. Again, he tried to get through to Clay.  
“Look, I know whatever Plemons is doing to Juice is probably bad. Real bad. But we just got to hope the kid will get through it alright. We got to let Thompson know what’s up. Hell be able to make sure nothing bad happens to Juice or Happy. If Juices mind can get through whatever Plemons does to him, Thompson can make sure he gets treated okay.” Bobby raised a good point, Clay admitted. There’s nothing they can do to help Juice right now, that realisation hurt Clay more than he could ever articulate. Still, the word that Bobby used there “If” spoke volumes about Bobby’s opinion of Juice.  
No one doubted Juice physical prowess by now. Juice had proven he could ride and fight with the best of them. He was a scrappy fighter as the fat man in the yard could attest to if he could talk. Juice had even beaten Jax once, Clay remembered fondly. He thought back to that moment.  
Juice had been prospecting for just 3 months. He still held the rest of the club members in a mixture of awe and fear. Jax was sparring with Tig in the ring. Juice was carrying a bag of ammo, when Jax had spotted him and challenged him. He wanted a match with him and everyone in the club would be there to watch. Jax had wanted Juice to be patched in, he advocated it to the club a few times, the sons needed to join the 21st century and they needed someone with tech skills to bring them there. Besides, Juice even at this early stage already worshipped the reaper and loyalty was always a valuable asset. Plus, Jax added with a laugh, Juice was strong as fuck and the club had already enough old men. The table for the most part agreed with Jaxs assessment, the only problem? Juice was too soft. He lacked the iron in his belly that the club needed to be a true son, so Jax was giving him a chance to prove his worth.  
When Juice had been told by Jax, Clay had seen a cute combination of excitement, pride and apprehension written across Juices cute face. Pride that the VP had deemed him worthy of a match and nervous apprehension in that he might embarrass himself in front of everyone by performing poorly. Certainly he didn’t expect to win but he was intent on trying his best.  
That night, when was Juice was approaching the small boxing ring, he had seen Jax had meant it when he said the entire club would be there. There was club members, fellow prospects and crow eaters. That just made Juice even more determined to win and impress the club. Jax was waiting, already in the ring, he wasn’t wearing a shirt, his lean form bared. To contrast, Juice, who was still so shy and timid he didn’t want the girls to see him shirtless, was wearing a tank top.  
Jax could see Juice face as he approached. Rather than his expression be one of grim determination he was wearing the same big, goofy smile he always seemed to have on him. “Does he even want to be taken seriously?” Jax had muttered under his breath. When Juice entered the ring, the rules were explained, this was a simple fight, there was to no rounds, the only way to victory was to get their opponent on his back. Then the fight began.  
The way they had moved had spoken of the lifestyles they had led. Jax having grown up being tutored in combat sports by different members of the club moved skilfully and precisely. Juice movements, having grown up more used to uncontrolled fights in the street relying on his not inconsiderable speed and strength, were raw and wild. It was a good fight, but it looked like Jax was ultimately going to prevail throughout most of it. Until, Juice got lucky and caught Jax with an especially hard punch.  
When Jax fell to the ground, a massive bruise forming on the left side of his face, Juice looked concerned. He was afraid he may have really hurt a man who had quickly proved to be one of the best friends he had ever had and afraid of possibly being punishment for harming the VP. Instead he heard the crowd cheering for him. Juice wasn’t used to praise from anyone, so hearing over a dozen people chant his name had made him feel almost dizzy with pride and excitement and he thumped his arm in the air. This had given the girls in the audience, and Clay too if he was being honest with himself, a nice good luck at his muscled arm, glistening with sweat in the artificial lights around the clubhouse.  
Clay had enjoyed the night almost as much as Juice had. Mainly for watching Gemma precious little prince be humbled before the whole club. But he was also happy for the prospect. You’d need to have a heart made of stone not to have felt happy along with Juice. He was grinning ear to ear and although he thought his face was wet from the sweat Juice had worked up from the fight, it was just as likely they were from tears of joy. Clay, knew then and there that Juice would eventually get patched in.  
_That’s my boy_ , Clay thought back fondly. But he knew Bobby had a point. Juice had never developed the mental fortitude most in the club had and probably never would. The endurance for pain and suffering, the callousness, the coldness. _That’s probably why I love him_. Juices was always the easiest to upset or manipulate in the club. Juice hated hurting people, whenever he was sent to administer a beatdown the boy always had come back with a haunted look on his face. Juice couldn’t intimidate someone if his life depended on it and Clay had thought he was way too soft on the prospects, too lenient, too gentle and forgiving towards them. He had even been considering trying to stop Half-sack and Juice from spending time together, because he risked spoiling the man, before the prospect had been murdered.  
And now, he was under Plemons care. The thought nearly drove Clay under another rage, again. He stopped himself and tried to calm himself. No, Bobby’s right. Clay instructed Bobby to reach out to Thompson.  
Later in the day, Clay found himself waiting impatiently in one of the least used corridors in Stockton for Officer Thompson to show up. When he heard the man’s footsteps, he didn’t even bother with addressing the man before he screamed for information at him.  
“Where the fuck is Juice?!” Thompson bristled at the disrespect Clay was showing him and his authority. He decided to let it go and answer him calmly.  
“Don’t you want to know about Happy, too?” That just made Clay angrier.  
“Happy can handle himself,” Clay snapped brusquely, “now tell me where Juice is?”  
“Juice and Happy are both in solitary for the next,” before Clay could interrupt in protest, Thompson raised a hand apologetically “out of my control. But ill get some of the most professional guys I can find to look over them. Make sure nothing bad happens to the two of them.”  
“Yes, fine, fine. You’re are guardian angel, got it. Now, just tell me,” when Clay finished his sentence, Thompson could see a surprising level of concern in Clays eyes “did Plemons do anything to hurt Juice?”  
Thompson looked nervous, “Now…now. Clay, I did tell you that Plemons was hard to control. I told you to make sure that Ortiz stays out of trouble.” Thompson backed up quickly as he saw Clay quickly approach, looking angrier than he had ever seen a human being before. Clay grabbed him by the neck and pushed him against the wall.  
“I don’t know shit about what you told me,” Clay snarled, “I know that we paid you to keep us safe in Stockton. All of us. Now if you don’t wont me to spread the word, that your word don’t mean shit, you’re gonna tell me what happened to Juice.”  
Thompson should be furious at an inmate daring to lay their hands upon him by any rights he should be calling for backup. But the way Clay was staring at him scared him and he didn’t trust that Clay would see reason anymore. Even in his old age, Clay still had the strength to do some serious damage to a man in just a few seconds. So he decided to tell Clay what he knew.  
“Look Clay, I don’t know what exactly Plemons did to juice,” Thompson felt Clays fingers tighten, “I’m telling the truth, Clay! I’m not sure but what I do know is that when Juice came out from his time with Plemons……. he……. he couldn’t walk properly.”


	6. Aftermath: Juice

Juice was in a fatigued state, half asleep and half awake, tossing and turning in the cold hard prison bed to try to make himself a bit more comfortable. He was pulling the thread bare sheet over himself when he began to feel the hands. There were dozens of them all over him, there were dozens of them exploring underneath his clothes like snakes. Some gently stroked and petted, others roughly squeezed and pinched but soon every part of him was being touched.  
They were on his face too, they were around Juices lips, gently probing to find a weakness for them to enter. Juice kept his mouth shout as tight as he could. Until, he felt a finger gently caress the most sensitive part of his body, as he let out a little gasp of shock, they took their chance and forced their way into his mouth. They were prying and forcing Juices jaw open, with more strength than Juice had ever felt before. Juice was terrified and then he saw Plemons standing over him. He still had that smug, false smile he always had; he was observing the scene in front of him. Seeing that Juice was completely secure he forced his tongue in Juices mouth. Juice tried to bite down but the strong hands clamped on his jaw stopped him from doing anything. Plemons tongue was roughly exploring Juices mouth, eventually he went further, and Juice felt it going down his throat. Juice panicked, he couldn’t breathe, with all his strength he escaped the hands clutching him. He leapt up from his bed, fully intending to beat Plemons, he didn’t care about the consequences anymore.  
And then he was awake. The sudden agony coming from his injured feet was a testament to that. He whimpered and awkwardly capered to try to alleviate the pain, no longer afraid of embarrassing himself in his private cell, before he threw himself back down on his bed. His feet hurt him more than ever, the pill the doctor had given him had worn off, and he didn’t have anything to take his mind off it with.  
Juice was already beginning to lose track off time. A little dramatic considering he had only been there for a few hours. Or was it days? Or weeks? Juices mind raced in a panic. He had never been good on his own or sitting still, he always needed something to focus on. Whether it was on tech, exercise or friends he needed something to distract him from how loud his mind could get. He didn’t have that now, in this tiny barren cell. His mind was racing, pulsing, it was getting so loud it was causing Juice to have an enormous headache. He was rubbing his temples. He felt awful.  
He wondered if he looked as bad. He gingerly got up from his bed, his bandaged feet making a soft, padding noise as he walked ,very slowly, over to the toilet in his cell. He peered into the water, the only reflective surface in his cell, and Juice saw that he was right.  
“Goddamn, I look like shit.” Juice whispered to himself. His eyes were red and raw from the crying he had done. His face was lined with stress and exhaustion, seemingly having aged 5 years in the last day. He had had paled significantly too. Clay wouldn’t like that, Juice realised. During his time in prison, a good portion of which he spent exercising under the hot sun, his dark skin had been tanned until he was browner than he had ever been in his life. Clay had looked at him in his cell once and had said, with a laugh, “Great that you’re really embracing the Puerto Rican heritage, Juicy.” He had thought that was a pretty weird comment, but he had taken the compliment and smiled at Clay.  
Juice crawled back in his bed and tried to sleep, not that he was tired. Juice was almost always lively and animated and being confined like this was making him go stir crazy. Usually, when he was in his cell with Clay he just worked out, push-ups, pull-ups on the prison bars, running on the spot until he felt like he had spent most of his pent-up energy. He had tried to the same that afternoon, but he realized the wounds on his feet left Juice feeling to sore to attempt any real exercise. Frustrated, he just lay there for a few more hours restlessly. Until he heard the door of his cell being unlocked.  
“Inmate. Shower time. Now.” The man who had opened the cell ordered at Juice. The man was fat, but strong looking and with a squat, ugly face. His nose had been broken at one point and Juice could tell from his eyes that he had long ago lost all patient for the inmates under his care.  
This must be the only time they’ll let me out all day, Juice thought to himself. Even still, Juice didn't want to go with him. Juice was sick of being ordered around, sick of complete strangers staring at him naked and vulnerable but he couldn’t say any option where disobedience didn’t end terribly for him, so he meekly got up and followed the guard outside.  
The guard wasn’t like the one who had led Juice into to solitary. That guard had accommodated Juice wounds and slowed down for him; he was even kind enough to not pass comment on the embarrassing,shambling shuffle that Juice was making. Not this guard, he roughly shoved and pushed Juice to get him to maintain his quick pace. That was hard and practically impossible for Juice in his current state, he could only move at about half of his normal speed and thats if he really pushed himself. The guard refused to accept this however and no matter how many times Juice stumbled or tripped he wouldn't alter the speed at which he walked. The soles of Juices feet were on fire and he felt like the stripes that Plemons had left on them were as painful as when he first inflicted them by the time he arrived at the shower room.  
The room was like the room where he had showered in front of the two guards on Plemons payroll. It was a spartan room, consisting of only a few cabinets, a shower head and a drain. Yet again there was going to be nothing between his naked ass and the outside world, Juice thought glumly. He was beginning to take his clothes off, when he noticed the guard had opened the cabinet. From it he produced a plastic cup.  
“Plemons thinks you may have been on something. So, he’s recommended that you take a piss test.” The guard explained. Juice groaned, why would Plemons do this? He’s not even around to watch this time. Groaning, he took the plastic cup from the guards’ hands and began to turn around and opened up the zipper of his pants. Until he heard the guards voice stopping him.  
“Uh-uh. Inmate, you’re in solitary. You’ve waved your rights to any privacy.” Juice looked at him incredulously for a few seconds. He couldn’t be serious? Then he realised petty sadism was the norm in Stockton. He faced the guard, ears red from embarrassment and followed his orders.  
The guard was angry at Officer Thompson, he had given him extremely strict, unalterable orders than Juan Carlos Ortiz was not to be harmed in any way. The guard remembered resentfully, it was rare for him to have a prisoner as cute and sweet and sexy as Juice was, and he had really wanted to have some fun with him. But orders where orders, so he was content with enjoying the show he had right now. Juice was giving him a sulky look as he emptied his bladder, he looked so childish the guard couldn’t help but smirk. The guard focused his gaze on a specific part of Juice. The guard grinned, the inmate had a nice, well-sized cock. It looked even bigger on the timid man it belonged to, with his average height and his deceptively slim frame.  
He gave the cup back to the guard. When he had put the cup away securely, he had then given Juice orders to strip. Juice changed very quickly, practically throwing off his clothes to show the man he couldn’t intimidate or embarrass him easily. When the water, much colder than the showers in the rest of the prison, turned on Juice hissed. He quickly got used to the temperature, at least enough to endure it.  
As the drops of water trickled down Juice, he couldn’t help but remember the horrible sensation of Plemons hands and lips exploring his body. His heart started to race a bit, he wanted to turn off the shower but was too afraid of the guard watching him to do it. Juice then became even more concerned and thought seriously to himself. Was he traumatised? Besides his secession with Plemons, Juice had already thought a year of strip searchs, public bathing and being drooled at by a collection of perverts and sadists had already begun to take their toll on him, mentally. Juice had been promising himself the first thing he’d do when he got home was to bed one of the crow eaters. But now he felt like if one of them touched him he’d probably burst into tears. Juice frowned, concerned, he really hoped that wasn’t the case. Despite the teasing Juice sometimes got for not having an old lady from the club he had a pretty strong libido.  
“Your just being paranoid”, he muttered to himself. He’s just gone through a pretty fucking awful experience, its normal if he doesn’t feel okay right now. But what if he doesn’t feel better later? Even 4 months from now when he got out? Juice would be too ashamed to try to get a therapist. Maybe if he asked Tara, in private, she could help him out?  
The shower had been going on longer than Juice was used to. The cold water was beginning to make his teeth chatter. The guard probably wanted to keep watching for as long as possible, enjoying watching the water cascade down his unblemished, smooth skin. Juice was getting pretty sick of being some freaks eye candy.  
“Don’t like you looking at me like that.” Juice pouted, hoping the blast of the shower had drowned out what he’d said. It didn’t, the guard extend his baton out, a warning that he had better never do or say anything that even resembled defiance again. Juice sighed, when was the last time he was naked with another human being and had enjoyed the experience? He tried to lose himself in his memories, it was with one of Luann’s girls, Hannah.  
They had met at one of the club’s parties. She had usually been intimidated by the bikers that Luann had around, but Juice had been different. He was nice, even sweet and nerdy. They had been with each other for a few weeks, probably one of the longest Juice has ever been in a relationship. She had liked Juice dressing up in some of the costumes Luann kept around. Juice had thought the idea was stupid and embarrassing to himself initially but then he found he liked it. What were the costumes about, Juice thought back? Let’s see, there was a Vikings outfit, a skintight superhero outfit, a loincloth to make him look like Tarzan and some other ones he couldn’t really remember. One day, she had an idea. Since Juice was already so pretty, she explained, why not make him look like a piece of art? Juice had been confused but intrigued at her proposal and had shrugged his shoulders and agreed to it.  
Later that night, when she arrived at his apartment, she had brought over some supplies to show him what shed meant. She had brought with her a mask that looked like it was supposed to be from Roman times, a wreath to put on his head and some gold body paint. Juice realised what shed meant and how she wanted him to look. Smiling he had stripped of his sons’ outfit, while she gazed adoringly at his body. She then produced a fine brush, dipped it into the paint and proceeded to cover every square inch of Juices body with it. Juice had laughed and enjoyed the process. However, when she had finished, he had felt awkward and a bit uncomfortable. He had put on the mask and put the wreath on the top of his head. He must look stupid, he had thought, then he saw the saw the results in a mirror.  
“Fuck, I’m hot.” if Hannah could see under Juices face underneath his mask, it would have been almost crimson in embarrassment when he realised he had said that out loud. She giggled at him, but he could see in her eyes that she completely agreed with his self-assessment.  
Juice had then struck a few muscle poses, trying to look like some Greek statues he saw online. Juice had looked pretty ridiculous, but Hannah couldn’t deny how attractive it had made him look. Hannah’s face was flushed as she stared at him, quietly taking in the beautiful view. Seeing the effect that just looking at him had on her made him smirk proudly beneath his mask. “What do you think, babe? Am I good enough to pass as a “piece of art”?” She walked over and would have kissed him if it wasn’t for the mask, instead resting her head on Juices chest. She ran her hands over Juice, staring with his mohawk, cut short at the time, feeling the soft, short bristles of his brown hair, being careful not to knock over the wreath on his head. Her hands continued over the hard contours of his muscled back before resting on his firm ass. She had given him a little squeeze, sending shivers of pleasure through him. He remembered other details of the apartment he had stayed in, the soft carpet that had felt so nice underneath his bare feet, how warm the room was. Juice smiled happily almost losing himself in the memory despite everything, until a cough from the guard caused him to snap back, remembering where he was and what had been done to him. Suddenly his mind took back to a much more recent and more unpleasant memory.  
Juice felt like he was back in the room Plemons had tortured him in. His feet on the cold, hard, dirty concrete floor. He felt Plemons touching his buttocks, again. His hands probing him like was a piece of meat. His hands greedily exploring every centimetre of the firm, muscular mounds of flesh. Juice wanted to escape the sensation so bad he bolted a little to the side and out of the cold stream of water which he was supposed to be showering under.  
The second he did that; he felt the guards cold hard grip on the back of his head. His baton hit Juice on the back of his knee forcing him to the ground. The man angrily dragged him back underneath the shower, pressing his face against the floor. He screamed at Juice.  
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing, inmate?! You finish, when I tell you to finish!” He raised a baton ready to beat Juice. He had almost brought the baton down on the defenceless prisoner until he realised what Thompson would do to him if he found out. Instead, he decided on a milder punishment. He grabbed Juice by his hair, roughly dragging him to his feet. He pointed at the valve of the shower.  
“See, that inmate? That was set on mild. Because you were such a little bitch, you can have the full blast.” He turned the valve as low as it could go, Juice shrieked as he felt the water turn freezing. He put his arms around his body desperately trying to warm himself, as the guard looked on.  
Eventually the guard had enough of tormenting Juice. He turned the water off, Juice was expecting a towel to dry himself, but he was told by the guard that since there was no need to rush, he was just going to let the water dry off him naturally. The guard just stood there until most of the water had evaporated off Juices body. He left the room and told Juice he was getting something, he then told the man standing before him wet and bare and vulnerable not to move or do anything, at all.  
Juice felt extremely embarrassed and exposed as he stood there. The guard had left the door on the shower room open. Anyone who walked by would see Juice standing completely still like an idiot, the most private parts of his body there for all to see. Thankfully, only one member of staff passed by in the corridor and he only gave Juice a fleeting, curious glance before walking on. When the guard returned, he was carrying two stools.  
Without saying a word, the guard closed the shower rooms door, Juice instantly felt better now that he had some privacy restored to him. He sat the stools down on the ground, indicating to Juice to sit down. Juice too terrified of the guard by now to do anything without his expressed verbal permission continued to awkwardly stand, nude in the middle of the room. The guard ,irritated, then gave him a much more obvious sign that he wanted Juice to sit down. When he did, the guard walked over to the cabinet and fetched some bandages and disinfectant. When he saw the confused look on Juices face, he started to explain what he’d been ordered to do.  
“Med team is too busy to see you. But I’ve been given orders to make sure you stay nice and healthy. So, I’m going to have to change your bandages. Can’t let those pretty, little feet of yours get even more damaged than they already are.” That just made Juice even more confused, who’d give a shit about him up top at the prison? He was still thinking about who had decided to help him, when the burly guard sat down on the still facing him. He indicated for to Juice to put his feet up, so that he could redress them.  
The cruel guard had placed the stool far enough away from Juice that he had to stretch his legs out fully, giving the guard a nice look at the toned limbs, rather than somewhere closer where Juice would have been a little more comfortable, for the man to go about his work. He left Juices feet resting on his lap, as he took Juices current bandages, sodden from his time in the shower, off.  
“Well, goddamn,” the guard set as he saw the damage on Juice soles “Plemons an artist.” He said admirably, the bruises and stripes reminded him of an abstract painting. Vivid reds and purples on the light, brown canvas of Juices feet. He slowly ran his finger over the wounds, enjoying the cute expressions on Juices face every time he winced.  
“You should be very grateful for your president,” he said. Juice immediately perked up on that, the realisation that Clay was looking out for him was sending him immense feelings of relief and joy. So much that he broke out into a broad smile even in his current condition.  
“Yeah,” the guard’s fingertip was still tracing one of the stripes on Juices feet “he really wasn’t happy when he heard what Plemons did to you. He made Thompson make sure that no one else can hurt you, Plemons has been sulking about that, and to make sure I treated you right.” The guard looked up at Juice and saw his eyes were wide and his mouth had dropped open in shock  
“You treated me, right?” Juice repeated incredulously. The guard annoyed slapped Juice hard on his firm right thigh.  
“Shut up, inmate. And don’t look at me like that, you look retarded,” he then added defensively “And for the record. I have been nice, I had to refuse a pretty large bribe from Plemons. He wanted me to let him into your cell. I don’t know what he wanted to do to you. Usually after he finishes with one of his pretty little spics, he gets bored. He must find you really special. I don’t think he was going to fuck you. He’s never done that, believe it or not. He prefers to play with his food. Maybe he was going to give you a hard spanking or something.”  
Juice shivered at the information he’d just been given and the thought of how close he had avoided another session with the sick perverted officer. The fat guard then went about the business of cleaning and redressing Juices wounds. Quietly, without saying a word, he was tired of talking to Juice, and quickly applied the disinfectant. He then roughly wrapped the clean, new bandages around Juices feet. 

After that was done Juice got up to get dressed again,he had stripped quickly and had dropped his clothes haphazardly on the floor. As he bend over to pick up his pants the guard got a good luck at the gorgeous curve of Juices ass. The man quickly forgot all about how annoying Juice could be and decided to enjoy the show, as Juice gingerly put his pants on, slowly trying not to hurt his sensitive feet he heard the guard wolf whistle at him. Juice felt blood rushing to his face and he turned to the guard,glaring at him. The guard got angry at his entertainment being interrupted. 

"Something you want to fucking tell me, inmate?" He growled at Juice. Instantly, Juan remembered how vulnerable he was and how easily angered the guard was. He quickly lowered his eyes,slackened his posture and when he spoke to the guard his voice sounded like a boy confronted by an angry guardian, stammering, high and nervous. 

"Just.. why you gotta be that way? Why do you all have to be this way? Im just a guy. I mean im not that interesting. Jax is buff and pretty too and no one messes with him. Why cant you just leave me alone? Please, Why cant you just fuc..." Juice trialed off, embarrassed at letting go of his emotions in front of someone like this and terrified that hed given the volatile guard in front of him a reason to punish him. As he saw the mans face redden in rage, Juice knew there was no chance of persuading the man not to hurt him even more. He just accepted whatever abuse awaited him,he stood silently and lowered his head staring at his bare feet waiting for his punishment. The guard took Juice lowered gaze as a sign of disrespect rather than deference or quiet submission. He took hold of Juices neck lifted his head up, forcing him to look at him and he delivered a stinging back handed slap to Juices face. 

"Never fucking talk that way to me son. Never fucking dare, got it?" Juice said nothing but gave the guard a quick,shaky nod that he understood.He shuttered as the guard put his calloused hands on his sides. 

"And by the way, you are pretty fucking interesting. Youre the prettiest inmate weve got. Hell, id kill to have a pair of abs like yours." Juice felt the calloused palms being raised until they were resting on his pecs. Juice gulped, the mans compliment made him more uneasy than any insult would have. 

"Um,thanks, man. I like to work out." 

"Oh,it shows." It really did, the guard thought internally, as he squeezed at Juices pectorals, admiring how hard they were, they could have been made of steel. Most of the rest of Juices body was probably as hard as that, the guard reliased remembering how firm Juices biceps felt when he dragged him along the prison corridor. The guard rudely gazed down from Juices sinewy shoulders, over his taut stomach all the way to his toned calfs, he doubted there was any fat on the man at all, despite how skinny he looked wearing his baggy prison clothes Juice was all muscle. They were lucky that such a strong body belonged to such a gentle shy man. Juice could do serious damage to a man, as the fat spic who had attacked him in the yard could attest. Hell, he was sure that Juice could beat him to a pulp despite the fact he was naked and the guard was clothed and armed with a baton. 

But Juice wouldnt do that. No matter what he was nothing more than a frightened boy underneath the muscles and the ink and he would never raise his fists at him no matter what he did to him. It had struck most of the prison staff as odd how man as soft of heart and head had been admitted into a violent biker gang like the sons. But the guard wasnt going to complain it had given him the opportunity of having such a cute,vulnerable man to play with in maximum security prison where the rules concerning the inmates treatment where rather flexible. 

Grinning the guard gave Juice a sharp shove sending him sprawling unto the hard,wet cold floor. The sharping smacking sound of all that naked flesh making contact with the floor echoed through the barren room. Juice had hit his head badly against the floor, wincing he rubbed the back of his head with his right hand. The man walked over, towering over the average sized man. 

"And now youre due a punishment because of youre cheek."Juice started to gather himself and bring himself up off the floor but he felt the mans boot on his chest. 

"No need to get up, inmate." He grinned. Looking around the room he saw the closest stool by him. Picking it up, he placed it beside Juice. He then grabbed hold of Juice by his neck and dragged him over to the stool. Placing him so his groin was directly on top of the wooden surface. Juice was terrified, he tried telling himself the man wouldnt rape or hurt him that badly.Clay was looking out for him, he tried to assure himself. But his hole ,and his cock and balls were out in the open and easily accessible to the guard who was proving himself as much of sadist as Plemons was. His private parts werent very private any more. 

Juice tensed and resisted the urge to scream when he heard the guard taking his belt off. He raised his head, forgetting how the man punished even the most miniscule of unauthorized movements and looked up. The guard was tugging at his belt,pulling and straightening it. Juice knew what was about to happen. The guard saw the relisation on Juices face and laughed. 

"Well, I did say Plemons wanted to give you a hard spanking. Probably a good idea,seeing what a problem spics can be when they aint tamed and if Thompsons wont let him do it i guess its up to me." 

Juice just sighed at that, he remembered the last time his ass had been whipped. It was a lot later memory than hed like to admit. His step dad continued to whip him with a belt well into his mid teens. It wasnt sexual like this was going to be but it did have the mix of utter self righteousness and sadism you only really ever got with parents.It was intended to keep him on the straight and narrow path but it had the opposite effect for Juice, if being on the right side of the law meant being crueler than any of the actual gangs in queens were, then as far as Juice was concerned following the law made no sense. He had ran away at 15 and had never looked back. Juice lowered his head again, until his forehead was resting on the cold tiles of the floor. He was surprised when he felt the man roughly pull his head up by his dark hair forcing him to look into the guards angry face. 

"None of that,punk. Youre not going to space out during this. I want you to feel it. Every time i hit ya, Youre to count it and thank me. Got it?" Juice just nodded his head without protest. Grinning the man raised his arm and began the whipping.

The man thankfully lacked the patient sadism that Plemons had, he would have played with and teased Juice before beginning the spanking but the fat officer lacked the mans skill in inflicting pain. So, instead he impatiently brought the belt down as quickly and as harshly as he could. It bit into Juices ass sending a sharp spike of pain through his body but it was nothing compared to what Juice had endured recently. He looked up at the man staring at him, he was expecting Juice to sulk and glare, or whine and moan, and give him an excuse to hit even more but Juice wasnt going to give the man the satisfaction. Instead Juice just grinned at him impishly and said. 

"One. Oh,and thanks. Sir." The guard was surprised this, even a bit offended. Juice was supposed to be a pussy, even his own crew seemed to see him as the soft one from what the files hed read claimed but the man was taking the punishment with a surprising amount of dignity.

Angered and confused by this the man raised his arm and brought it down again, the leather making a cracking noise as it connected with firm muscle. The man delivered another ten blows and Juice had yet to break. He hadnt wept or pleaded or forgot to count and thank him after each blow. The man normally would have enjoyed watch Juices perky toned ass quiver and tighten up in response to the whipping. There was even bruises forming on his buttocks but the guard was too upset at not having broken the man yet that he didnt take the time to enjoy it. 

"You think youre being tough, you little spic? Huh? You think you can take what i can give?! You have no fucking idea how much i can hurt you!! No fucking clue!" Juice was rather frightened but he couldnt help but take pleasure in seeing the man utterly lose his shit at failing to break him. He couldnt resist grinning, it was the same grin filled with boyish bravado that Juice had given when he had beat the Mexicans at the basketball match he had participated in days go. 

The guard saw Juice smile and his face all but purpled in sheer primal rage. He was going to raise his belt and bring it down again on Juice ass but as tempting a target as his cute little butt made the guard realised there was a much more sensitive part of his body to hit. Seeing the man lower the arm he was using to hold the belt made Juice hope his punishment was ending he started to get up only to fell a vice like grip on his neck. Juice head was roughly shoved down again, his forehead banging against the tiles. Juice felt a large bruise beginning to form. The Guard whispered in his ear. 

"Dont fucking move until i tell you. Not a fucking muscle." He hissed. Juice found the quiet tone this was delivered in much more threatening than the loud growling or screaming the man had previously addressed him in. He kept his head firmly on the ground and didnt move a single muscle. Juice felt his new fresh bandages being roughly ripped off, he felt the sudden sharp feeling of the cool air of the shower room connecting with his sensitive wounded soles. He knew that his feet where about to be hurt again, Juice felt all his courage desert him at the thought of having his still wounded feet being injured again so soon. They were already causing him so much pain. He forced down bile coming up his throat, he closed his eyes repressing tears and began to plead quielty. 

"Please, man. Please dont. Ill beg and cry if thats you want to hear. Just please dont hurt me there again. Please?" If Juice hadnt been so distressed he would have realized his desperate pleas where exactly what the man wanted to hear. If Juice was allowed to look up he would have seen how the guards pig like eyes lit up.He took hold of Juices ankle and raised his leg up abruptly. He readjusted the belt so the metal part would connect with the stripes on Juices feet. The belt sang through the air, the fat guard brought it down so quickly and sharply, before it made contact with the inmate. Juice heard the thud of the metal hitting his bare feet at first before a few seconds later he felt the sharp agony travel throughout him. This time the man got the reaction he wanted and Juices scream echoed through the room. Satisfied he raised his arm again, multiple blows would be applied on each foot he decided. Plemons wasnt the only one who knew how to break an inmate, the guard thought to himself. 

By the time the guard was finished with Juice his feet had hurt him even more than when Plemons had beat him, they felt raw and he could feel the blood trickling out of the reopened wounds. They felt like hed just been forced to run over molten lead. The tiles Juices face was leaning on was wept from his tears. 

"See, inmate? See that youre nothing but a little bitch?"The guard smiled his face shining with victory. Juice was just lying in a defeated crumple on the ground. So afraid of earning more of the brutish guards displeasure that he was too afraid of moving so much as a single muscle despite the fact his whipping had just concluded, the guard was audibly putting his belt back on. He looked down at Juice proud of how afraid the biker had became of him.Juice was trembling a little, his hands were balled up tightly and his eyes where shut tight in an attempt to hold back his tears. The guard dragged the second stool over. Slowly, letting it scrape against the floor enjoying watching Juice tense up in apprehension,nervously taking in heavier and heavier breaths. The guard sat down facing Juices side enjoying the view, especially seeing the muscles of Juices sinewy back tighten up. After staring for a few more seconds he suddenly started to speak again. 

"Alright, that was pretty fun but ive realised something. I didnt finish your spanking. You had a dozen more blows,at least. I dont think ill use my belt for the rest though. Something about it is so impersonal,dont you think? I think ill finish you with my bare hand, with you over my knee.Maybe if your daddy did that more often you wouldnt have turned out to be such a little shit." Juice just looked at the man. Surely he was kidding? But the man slapped his thighs indicating to Juice that he wasnt. Juice let out a miserable sob but obeyed the man. He didnt even try to get up and walk to the man. He knew his legs would just buckle underneath him and he didnt want to embarrass himself even more. So he just decided to crawl over to the man. 

The guard got impatient with the slow crawl Juice was doing so put his hand around Juices slender but toned arm and roughly dragged him over on top of him and positioned him over his knees. The guard had never felt so excited or powerful as he did now, with the strong lean man under his complete power. The large latin cock lying against his thigh made things interesting as well.

The guard didnt start the blows right away. He was becoming more patient and more talented at inflicting pain on a helpless prisoner. Firstly, he played with Juice at first, pinching the bruises on his ass causing Juice to wiggle ever so slightly in responce, the guard savoring even the smallest flex of the hispanic inmates fantastic physique as Juice lay on him. 

After he got bored with that he raised his hand. It was time for Juices latest punishment to begin in earnest.He brought his arm down with all his might and when it made contact the guard felt two glorious sensations at once. The delightful loud smacking noise as his hand connected and the feeling of his bare hand making such violent contact with Juices ass. It felt like hitting a statue, it was going to be tough breaking Juice but he was up to the challenge the guard thought to himself with a relish.

It didnt hurt as much as the leather belt had, Juice realized, but it was extremely humiliating. There was no dignity to be had here, there wasnt any great pain he could stoically endure to prove how hard he was. Juice face was red after the bare palm made contact with him and this was only the first blow. The guard laughed at the priceless expression on the cute naked prisoner, lifted his hand up and delivered the second blow. 

The guard spanked Juice at a leisurely pace, stopping to allow Juice to feel and absorb each slap. He would frequently stop and proceeded to irritate Juices bruises and scars by pinching them like he had before he started. He would rest his hand on one of Juices glutes kneading them gently, admiring how sculpted and ripped they were and would run a calloused thumb over Juices tight little butt crack. 

Juice was ready to die off embarrassment, this made his march through charming in a diaper look practically noble in comparison. His tears of pain had been replaced with ones of embarrassment, he quickly wiped them off with his forearm as soon as they formed. The guard had gone over the promised dozen blows, it had to be twice as much at this rate.Juice was praying to any shit god who might be listening to him to make it stop. It was starting to really hurt physically as well, Juice felt like his backside had a lit torch held against it. 

Eventually the guard stopped, his arm was getting tired and his palm was stinging from raining blow after blow on the rock hard flesh. He sighed, then he looked down at Juice and saw the damage he had done. He felt rather guilty not out of the pain or distress he had caused Juice but rather at the visible damage that been done to Juices ass. It had been magnificent, if a renaissance sculptor had made it hed have considered it his masterpiece but now it actually looked rather ugly. There were deep purple bruises on it and it had been reddened by the spanking he had just inflicted, the guard felt like a vandal. It wasnt that serious though, after a week hed heal and no one would know what had been done to him.

In that knowledge the squat ugly guard decided to finish Juices punishment with one final hard smack to his tender flesh. He delivered it with twice the strength he had with any other smack, a fitting ending to the procedure in the guards eyes. The spanking had been given with a rhythmic level of force, each blow applied with roughly the same amount of energy. So the final blow, being given such strength behind it, startled Juice who let out a pathetic yelp and jerked rather sharply. The guard enjoyed that,especially the feeling of Juices large genitals bouncing along his thigh. With the spanking concluded the fat man pushed Juice off his lap and bluntly told him. 

"Getup and get dressed inmate. Im taking you back to your cell." Juice should have been overjoyed at the news but he was much more concerned about his current state. Juice didnt want to look down the length of his body, he could feel the damn wetness of the blood on his soles and he didnt want the shock of looking at the reopened wounds. He then turned towards the guard kept his tone of voice as submissive and deferential as he possibly could and quietly asked him.

"What about my feet? You told me you had to keep me healthy." The guard groaned at that but had to admit Juice was right. He actually was annoyed at himself for whipping Juice feet as viciously as he had. As fun as it was he just made more work for himself. He roughly pulled Juice to a sitting position on the floor.

"Fine, smartass." He growled and he went over to the cabinet to get more bandages. Juice was actually glad he was forced to sit on the floor rather than a stool. While the floor was hard and wet and cold it actually felt rather soothing pressed against his stinging butt. As he closed his eyes and tried to relax and forgot the pain he was in. He thought about being back with the club, with Clay. Then he was yanked back to reality rather abruptly when he felt a vice like grip quickly pull his toned leg up. The guard hadnt even bothered to sit down on a stool to go about his work, he just left Juices foot rest against his gut as he very quickly and very roughly applied the bandages. He then quickly grabbed Juices other leg and repeated the process. 

The guard had done a very poor job, he hadnt cleaned the freshly reopened wounds or even wiped some of the blood off. The bandages had been applied so quickly and so carelessly that Juice would be surprised if they didnt fall off within a few hours. But Juice didnt dare complain. He tried to get up but applying even the slightest pressure on his feet would be agony.He tried crawling over towards his clothes but putting them on while he was lying there would have been a challenge. He looked up at the guard pleadingly for help. 

"Fine, fine. Whatever you want." He placed his arms underneath Juices smooth armpits and around his chest and pulled him up. The guard was so clumsy and rough with Juice that it hurt his rips. Rather than help support Juice to stand,with his evidently weak shaky legs not up to the ask of supporting the inmates muscled form , the guard shoved him against a wall to lean on.He saw that Juice was hobbling along painfully as he moved himself to position against the bare wall. 

"Fuck." He hissed to himself. Barring an absolute miracle, he was almost certainly going to be found out for this. That was a shame. The fat guard had developed a passion for tormenting handsome, muscular latino males that rivaled Plemons and he didnt want the close scrutiny that would make it impossible to indulge his plans for the inmate. He was planning on toying with the large cock and balls of the prisoner the next day, maybe try to discover if thats the reason he was nicknamed "Juice". He definitely wanted to give him another long,hard spanking or maybe go even further and fuck the man himself. He looked at Juices trim, lean body and could only imagine how tight his hole was. But these all looked like fantasies now, he sulked to himself. The fat man picked up the inmates clothes and roughly threw them at him. 

"Put your shit on inmate." He growled. Juice was very slow to dress himself,as he had to both focus on standing with only the wall being his one bit of support and he had to avoid irritating the sensitive flesh of both his feet and his buttocks. He slowly accomplished the simple task of dressing himself. Putting on his pants took the longest. He then put on his socks, his feet were so sensitive than even the soft cotton covering them stung like hell but they did make his feet feel warmer after spending so long standing nude in the shower room, the tiles slick with ice cold water. The last article of clothing was his shirt, cheap and uncomfortable to wear but Juice was happy that there was something shielding his sculpted upper body from the lustful stares of the guard. As Juice stood there still leaning against the wall, processing what had just happened to him he felt the guard lightly slapping his face. 

"Time to go, Cutie. You can daydream when you're back in your cell."

After they left the shower room, the guard again had tried to force Juice to walk as fast as he could, no matter how much suffering it was causing Juice or how evidently self-defeating it was. The more he pushed Juice, the more the pain in his feet caused him to slow and the more he slowed down, the more the guard pushed him.  
They were halfway through the walk back to Juices cell, when they saw Officer Thompson. Thompson had been checking up to see to see how Happy and Juice were being treated. If they had been abused in any way Clay would probably kill him. He had just finished looking in at Happy. The most terrifying member of the Sons. He was doing very well, as it turned out and then he went to visit Juice.  
Juice should not have been walking at the pace he was being forced to. The awkward shuffle he was moving at and the sharp looks of pain that appeared in his face every time he took a step, was a demonstration of that. The man also looked extremely distressed, like he was going to cry at any second. That’s to be expected after any time under the exclusive care of Officer Plemons, Thompson thought to himself. But he would check in with the guard who had been watching over Juice. And if he had mistreated Juice and made a liar of him to Clay….  
Juice felt their pace slow. He didn’t really know why. Was it because of the other guard they had just passed? He didn’t really care; he was just happy was that he could walk a little bit more comfortably. He then felt, the guard whisper in his ear.  
“Looks like I’m going to have my ass chewed out because of you inmate. Guess this mean I’ll have to be nicer you. Oh, well. We had a lot of fun today, didn’t we?” He grinned as Juice just walked on quietly.  
When the door to his cell was unlocked, Juice was shoved in as the guard slammed the door behind him. Juice was back in the cell. He thought he would have felt overwhelmed when he returned to the dark stifling room, but Juice felt oddly at peace. Clay was looking out for me he grinned to himself in the darkness. Despite everything that had happened to him in the last few days and the remaining time he had left to endure in the isolation wing in Stockton prison Juice knew he could get through it in the knowledge his president had his back.  
The days that followed were dull and boring, but Juice got through them. He didn’t have anymore panic attacks and his mind had calmed down enough that he wasn't constantly assaulted by paranoid thoughts but he was still plagued by nightmares of his time with Plemons. He went to sleep whenever he felt tired, with the lack of any natural light Juice could only guess when night was. The only way for Juice to measure the passing of days was when he was allowed out of his cell to bathe. The guard had kept to his promise of being less cruel to Juice, he left him alone as he showered in peace. He could still feel the man feast upon every inch of his naked body with his eyes and in between the noises of the blast of the water and his chattering teeth under the freezing shower, Juice thought he could rustling and moaning noises from the man like he was fondling himself to the biker showering but he quickly learned to tune it out. By day 5, Juices feet, while still sore as hell, had healed enough that Juice felt like he could attempt some mild exercises to help pass the time. He started doing sit ups, slowly and awkwardly, with very little of the near effortless athleticism Juice usually went through his workouts but it was still enough to make Juice feel a little better. He was on day 7, when he heard the door in his cell being unlocked and the officer addressed him  
“Come on, Inmate. Its time for you to get out of here. Its time to re-join your crew.”


	7. Reunion

It was only dawn in the yard, but the intensity of the sunlight had caused Juice to shut his eyes. He wanted to shield them with his hands but hey were handcuffed as he was being escorted from isolation. A week with no natural light and his whole world being compressed to his single cell, a grimy dark corridor and a shower room had made Juices vision extremely sensitive. Even still he wished he could stand there for a few minutes just to feel the fresh air, as much as he was looking forward to being back with Clay. 

Juice paused thinking back to the basketball match he had played with the Mexican gang, the last happy moment for Juice in the last week. He remembered how it had felt. Juice had moved so fast that the even the arid still Californian air had breezed past him, cooling his warm, sweaty body. He sighed contently at the memory, only to be jolted forward by the guard dragging him back to his normal cell. 

He winced, while his feet had healed a bit in the last week, they were still very sore. He could walk on his own unaided, in contrast for the first two days when Juice had been practically crippled and needed assistance help him so much as shamble through the walk from his cell to his shower. He could now walk for a few minutes in a slow, uneven pace until it really started to hurt him. As Juice walked through the yard, he heard some of the inmate’s snicker at him, embarrassed he crouched down trying to make himself as small and unnoticeable as possible, that just increased the laughter even more.

Juice had wished Plemons had just given a more traditional beating, broken his ribs, his arms, blackened his eyes. That would have brought him sympathy instead of sneers. He could have proudly displayed his scars and bruises like old war wounds to the club. But when does someone look at the soles of a mans bare feet? The only people who ever saw Juices where the crow eaters who would rub his feet after a hard day’s ride. But Plemons had wanted to humiliate as well as hurt Juice as much as possible. So, it was Juices fate to be a spectacle for the rest of the prisoners and he endured it as much as he could.

Mentally, Juice had recovered as well as he had believed. When he was in isolation the world was a lot calmer, a lot stiller. Juice could solely concentrate on the thought of his reunion with the rest of Clay to keep himself feeling steady. The chaos and noise of gen pop was a different story, every time a mean looking inmate got close to Juice, he flinched and backed away to their amusement. Juice felt ashamed of how traumatised he was. Its not like Plemons had actually raped me, Juice thought, ultimately all he had done was touch me a lot. There was one point where he thought he would have though, Juice remembered shuddering.

It was when Plemons was continuing his playful exploration of Juices ass. When he was bringing his finger across the top of Juices thighs to the low of his back, as gently as he could, all to send as many confusing signals of pleasure to Juices brain as possible. He had been alternating from Juices left and right cheek, so that he couldn’t get used to it, when Plemons had suddenly stopped and had nestled his finger on the tight crack of Juices buttocks. He had then manoeuvred until his fingertip had been pressing gently against Juices small, incredibly tight opening. Plemons had been sorely tempted to press his finger in a little more and explore the tight warm confines of Juices hole but was concerned that the pretty doe eyed man would snap and attack him. So, simply left it there for a few minutes listening to Juice quietly moan and whimper before withdrawing and beginning his exploration of the front of Juices body. Juice felt bile coming to his throat as he remembered the sensation. Suddenly he had straightened up and loudly screamed.

“No! No, no, no! Its over! Stop thinking about it! You’re going to be back with Clay soon! Hell make this, right! Hell take care of you from now on…...” He had trailed of, realising he had said all that out loud. The guard escorting him gave him a curious look and several inmates had burst out laughing at him. “Jesus Christ,” Juice sighed, “how are the rest of the guys gonna look at me now?”

Juice continued his walk across the yard. He only now noticed how hot the ground of the yard was. The cheap trainers each inmate was issued with absorbed the heat very effectively. This just increased the sensitivity in the tender soles of Juices feet, just when he had wanted to walk in with as much dignity as possible. He had then noticed Happy.

He must have been in solitary too, Juice realised. He had forgotten about Happy, for the last week all he could think of was getting out of isolation that he had forgotten that Happy had been in the fight and was going to be punished as well. Did Plemons torture Happy to? Juice had felt awful about wishing that on anyone else but it would have been really nice to have someone to talk to who knew what he had went through.

When Happy saw him he just scowled at Juice. Rather in a very irritable mood after a week in solitary

“What’s the matter? Did you drop glue on your face before going down on someone?” He snarled at Juice.

“Glue? What are you talking about?” Juice asked puzzled until he remembered he hadn’t shaved in over a week. He had the beginnings of a beard growing on his face. He really hadn’t noticed or even thought about it, the only reminder he had was the occasional itching feeling on his face. Juice ignored the insult and cheerfully asked Happy. “So how you doin’ man?” Happy had just grunted before addressing him.

“Gonna kill that faggot, Plemons. Freak worked me over what felt like an hour.”

Worked him over? Juice had wondered what that meant. Did Plemons have a session with Happy like Juices after all? Happy didn’t seem Plemons type, he was fit and brown like Juice but that’s where the similarities ended. Happy was burly, whereas Juice was lean and defined. Happy was almost always scowling with facial hair that already turned grey, while Juice was always friendly, and he still had a baby face despite being in his early thirties. Juice then ventured a question nervously.

“What do you mean “Worked you over”? Did Plemons touch and rub your abs and ass and stuff?" Happy had just looked confused at that.

“No, he just made me bend over and cough. He kept me buck naked for as long as he could, though,” he squinted at Juice. “Why? What the fuck did he do to you?”

“Plemons, man,” Juice stammered embarrassed in reply “He was just an asshole guard…. he was just trying to freak me out, ya know?” Happy looked at Juice suddenly curious, he then noticed the odd shuffle the friend he worked out with was making.

“Why are you walking like that?” Happy asked sounding almost concerned.

“Its just… Plemons…Plemons beat my feet.”

“Your feet?”

“Yeah, my feet. To teach me a lesson.” Juice squirmed embarrassed. Happy realising this was a subject that Juice didn’t want to talk about just kept quiet for the rest of the walk, to Juices relief.

As he entered the main body of the prison Juice was feeling more and more excited, he was going to be with Clay. Everything would be better after that, Juice told himself. Clay would take care of him; Clay would make everything all right. 

Clay had slept almost as bad as Juice had for the last week. He couldn’t stop thinking about whether or nor his boy was doing okay or not. When he heard from Thompson about how Plemons had whipped Juices feet badly, he had pounded the walls of his cell until his fists were bloody. Clay was slightly calmed down by Thompson assurances that the doctors had told him that the damage done to Juice wasn’t permanent and he would walk again normally again, at some point. That was a mild relief to Clay, the club life was everything to Juice and Clay wondered how he or Juice could cope if he wasn’t allowed to remain a place at the table if he couldn’t walk properly,

Clay was also worried about the mental damage done to Juice as well. He had nearly strangled Tig when he suggested that there a possible silver lining out of this that Juices experiences would finally harden the boy. Clay didn’t want Juice to be hard, he wanted him to remain soft and naïve and kind. He wanted to see the big goody grin on his face and the excitement that glowed on his beautifully expressive eyes. If Plemons had taken from him, he would kill him, no matter what the cost to himself, Clay decided. 

He also missed Juice for more selfish reasons, having him around made Clay feel so much better about the world. It wasn’t just how sexy Clay had found him lately. It wasn’t just looking at the exquisite curve of his toned ass through his pants or his fantastic set of abs as he took his shirt of as he went to bed but the fact Juice was the only person that Clay truly felt he could relax around without having to guess any ulterior motives. The boy also made a great sleep aid too. When Juice had finally expended enough energy to feel tired, he was a pretty heavy sleeper. Seeing the boys sweet, innocent face deep in sleep in contrast to the depressing surroundings of Stockton made the boy look like a literal angel, it was often one of the few things that soothed Clay when he was mad at being confined in prison. Clay had even found the boys light snoring to be rather endearing. 

It was the last morning of Juices confinement and Clay felt both extremely anxious and excited at the same time. It was going to be so seeing him again, but he was nervous about what state he’d be in when he saw him. Clay was pacing his cell nervously when he saw the boy walking down the corridor.

 _Well, shit_ , Clay thought, when he first saw him again. Juice looked awful, his brown skin had paled significantly and, being denied access to a razor, he had begun to grow a beard that made him look scruffy and unkempt. More importantly there was the way he walked, hearing about what had been done to Juice was thing but seeing the actual effect were quite another. Juice was limping, wincing very slightly every few steps. The boy looked sheepish and shy too as he walked down the corridor, his eyes occasionally darting down to look at the floor. Clay was worried than his worst fears were a reality, that Juice had been broken by Plemons, until Juice spotted Clay looking at him. He saw the boy’s face change instantly a large smile ear to ear emerging on his face, the boy looked nearly overcome with joy as he speed up back to his cell to be reunited with Clay.

Juice had been worried whether Clay was going to be mad at him, he knew he had arranged for Juice to be protected at solitary but that could have been Clay simply fulfilling his duties as president to take care of his club members, he might be blaming Juice for beating that man and getting himself in trouble. But he knew when he saw the grin on his presidents face that Clay was genuinely happy to see him. When the guard uncuffed him and let him back into his cell, Juice had run over to Clay, ignoring the sharp pain this caused him and hugged him. 

Both Clay and Juice wrapped their arms around each other and squeezed so hard it would have hurt a bit if they both weren’t so happy to be with each other. Clay eventually loosened his grip so he could start gently rubbing Juices back. Partly to comfort Juice after the ordeal he had just gone through but also because Clay had wanted to feel the boy just to make sure that this was real. He breathed in deeply, taking in the smell of Juices hair, smiling happily at his boy being in his arms. Juice for his part was crying slightly ,his head resting on top of Clays shoulder, he didn’t know whether it was due to his happiness at seeing Clay again, relief from getting out of solitary or the pain from all the abuse he had endured finally catching up to him or a combination of all three. They held each other for a few minutes, both temporarily forgetting that they were in prison.

When they finally broke off the contact, they both smiled awkwardly at each other. Clay had noticed Juices tears, he tenderly held Juices face as he brushed them off with his thumbs.

“Hey, Juice. Please don’t cry. You’re safe now. I promise.” Juice had broken out in an embarrassed laugh.

“Yeah, sorry about that. Its just that this has been a real shitty week.” He said, while wiping away the rest of his tears with is forearm.

 _You don’t say…._ Clay snapped back into reality. He suddenly remembered where they and what had happened to Juice. He noticed the boy’s legs where trembling slightly, even if he didn’t.

“Shit, why are you still standing? Come on, lets get you lying down.” As he directed Juice to one of the prison beds, each awkward, painful step he took biting into Clays heart like a knife. As his boy’s head was gently lying on a pillow. Clay started to untie his shoelaces, he wanted to see the damage that had been done to him. Juice for his part didn’t want Clay to see. He gently kicked his leg up very slightly.

“Don't, Clay. I don’t want to think about it. I’m starting to feel better now, honest.” But that only made Clay more determined.

“Come one, Juicy. I have to see.” He replied softly but firmly. Sighing, Juice relaxed his legs. Allowing Clay to delicately peel off his socks and shoes. He growled when he saw the damage.

“Fuck!” Juices wounds had visibly begun healing, but he knew they were still an ugly sight. The soles of his feet, especially the left one, where a mass of scars and bruises. Clay had bounced off the bed and was now frantically pacing his cell, muttering about what he was going to do Plemons.

“I’m gonna kill him. I’m gonna skin him….” Be fore he was pleadingly interrupted by Juice,

“Please don’t do anything. Clay. Please. I’m so tired. I just want to forget about it.” Clay had wanted to argue until he looked at Juice face.

“Alright, Juice,” Clay said tenderly, “If that’s really what you want. There’ll be no retaliation. At least, until we’re out of this shithole. You just rest, until then. Just think about getting better.” Juice had smiled at that, grateful that the rest of his stay promised to be peaceful. After Clay had calmed down, he recalled he had some better news for Juice.

“I just remembered Juicy. I’ve got some gifts for you.” That news had perked Juice up.

“Gifts?” He asked curious. What kind of presents could Clay have got him in here? 

“Yeah, gifts.” He then perched down to beneath his bed and produced some thick, hardback books.

Thompson had been very apologetic to Clay when he had heard what had been done to Juice. He promised that he’d do something to make up for it. Clay had wondered what he should demand for Juice. More yard time? That seemed pointless when Juice could barely walk without the effort hurting him. Then he remembered what kind of books Juice liked. 

They were usually sci fi or fantasy. Stories that had large grandiose mythologies and worlds, huge casts of characters and battle sequences. They were the only kind that could keep Juice active mind occupied for long enough to maintain his attention. The only problem they were almost always incredibly long and after some prisoners had used large hardbacks as weapons, the prison usually only issued slim to medium sized soft backs. The absence of anything to read had contributed to Juices boredom in Stockton and by getting him them Clay hoped to give him something to occupy his time. Now that he couldn’t work out properly for a while.

“Thanks, man.” Juice had said beaming. Then he recalled the exact word Clay had used.

“Did you say “Gifts”?” Juice enquired, he then realised that had made him sound rather greedy. Clay couldn’t help but laugh at how bashful and embarrassed Juice had looked.

“Yeah, gifts. I’ve got a few more treats for you, Juice. I’ve got Thompson to get you your own separate shower time. It’ll just be you. For at last a week. He doesn’t know how much longer he can keep it up after that, though.” After Clay had informed him of that news, Juice had been a very happy man.

Juice was practically shaking with excitement. He could shower on his own? In privacy? Juice grinned from ear to ear. Even if he hadn’t been poked and prodded and petted like an animal Juice had had enough of public bathing. Although, the rest of the club thought Juice possessed an almost childlike innocence about life in prison he wasn’t entirely naïve about how some of the other prisoners looked at him. He could tell how they drooled and slobbered over him. It made Juice feel extremely uncomfortable as he was trying to get himself clean. This was a big problem for Juice as he took personal hygiene very seriously and he always hurried up as fast as he possibly could, only long enough to get the worst of the grime and sweat off him. Clay was a little surprised that was what had made Juice so happy but as long as the boy’s mood improved Clay didn’t mind.

It had to be later in the day, Clay regretfully informed Juice, it was the only time where the shower room was empty. Juice disappointed but understanding had picked up one of the books Clay had given him and started to read it. He boyishly sat cross legged on the bed while he was reading his sci fi novel. Clay had noticed that juices bare feet would occasionally twitch. He thought it was a pretty cute sight, temporarily forgetting about the reason for their sensitivity, until he saw the heavy scarring on his soles, feeling the rush of anger as he remembered the horrible things that had happened to him. Not wanting to upset Juice, he just simpered quietly in silence and let Juice read his book in peace. 

When the time came Clay and Juice where escorted by a guard Thompson had sent them. When they entered the emptied room, Juice noticed there had been a razor and some shaving foam left as well on the sink. Juice wanted to use that first. He hated the scruffy looking beard he had started to grow while he had been caged in solitary. He also wanted to remove the hair that he been allowed to grow on the rest of his body. Juice then stripped of his shirt, giving Clay a good look at his upper body.

Juice was still in fantastic shape. _Still more ripped than Jax,_ Clay thought proudly. However, he had lost some of the tone he had in the last week. The definition on Juice had been phenomenal it would have been impossible for him to maintain without daily long, intensive workouts. _Boy probably wont even look like that again even after he heals when we restart club life_ , Clay had thought mournfully. He sighed, he really should have been more appreciative of the view when Juice had played the basketball game topless. Clay then noticed that Juice had grown some body hair as well. It wasn’t much, just some hair underneath his arms and some wiry black hairs peppering the hard, slabs of muscles on his chest. Still, Juice obviously didn’t like having them as he started applying the shaving cream to his armpits and chest.

 _If that’s all he can grow why even bother?_ Clay had thought to himself as Juice had ran the razor down his chest. He started to get to work underneath his arms, when Clay noticing had awkward it looked, offered to shave them for him. Juice had thanked him and raised both his arms into the air to give Clay easier access to him. _Ah, Jesus._ Clay had to restrain himself from licking Juices arms from his shoulders to his wrists. The flexing position Juice had put them in had made the firm, toned muscles in his arms pop out. When that was done Juice then shaved his facial hair down, Clay had noticed he had left his moustache. When inquired about it, Juice had just laughed.

“I really like the Stache, Clay” He had said with a smile.

“Yeah, it suits you man.” Clay wasn’t lying to make Juice feel better, he truly did think that it suited him. 

After that had done and Clay had tuned his back as Juice had stripped and went into the shower cubicle. Clay couldn’t help but admire Juices cute perky butt in the mirrors as he walked in. _Just as ripped as the rest of him, the kid could be an exhibit in a goddamn museum._ Then he heard Juice turn the shower on.

Juice had happily closed the curtain on his shower cubicle. Most of the cubicles had been outfitted with curtains but after them constantly be ripped off by inmates the prison had stopped supplying them. That had left just one and it was usually claimed by the most powerful inmate in the prison. Juice was beginning to feel content, extremely grateful to have the resemblance of normality again. Then as he felt the water hit his head and shoulders, he had tensed up expecting to be hit with the tepid water he had become accustomed to as Stockton, until he had the third happy surprise of the day. This shower had hot water!

Clay had expected to have to fight to urge to ogle Juice as he had bathed. The curtain wasn’t a particularly strong barrier for a person’s modesty. It wasn’t long and everything below Juices knees were visible, exposing his shapely calves. The curtain was only translucent, and the outline of Juices muscled form could be made out, but Clay had found that he couldn’t have done it even if the curtain was as transparent as a plane of glass. Juice looked so sweet and innocent in the shower, laughing and splashing playfully like a boy, that Clay could only think about how badly he wanted to protect Juice and make sure that he was happy _. I’ll die before I let him get hurt again in Stockton_ , Clay had vowed to himself.

Juice could have spent all day under the hot water but he knew there a limit to how long the room could be kept empty for him, sighing he turned the water off. Clay had given him a soft towel to dry off before they left room to re-join the rest of the club in the yard. Juice while happy to be re-joining and seeing the rest of his club was becoming more and more nervous. Something Clay noticed.

“Something wrong, Juicy.” Clay had asked gently.

“It’s just I don’t the club to see me like this.” Juice had said indicating at his feet, still causing him to shuffle and stumble as he walked. Clay had patted Juice on his head reassuringly.

“Relax, Juicy. They understand what happened to you.” Clay had informed him, seeing Juices face redden up embarrassed he soothed him by adding “They were concerned, Juice. I had to tell them. Don’t worry, I made them promise they won’t say a word if you don’t want to talk about it” Clay had been a lot more forceful with Jax, Tig or Bobby that he was willing to admit to Juice. He had warned them that if they had said a single word to Juice that embarrassed him, he would make splinters out of their teeth. 

Juice had been greeted with a warm embrace by each member of the club when he reunited with them on the yard. They were happy to see him. One of the few things that almost everyone in the table could agree was that Juice was the easiest member to get along with, he was the only one who nether had conflicting loyalties or a personal agenda to advance. Still they could see how much Juice had suffered. They saw how slow and awkward his steps were and the pain in Juices face that he was trying to brave through. They also saw how Juice was even more sensitive than usual. The yard was now full of activity and bodies at this point in the day and no matter how much Clay tried to cheer and distract Juice; the boy was as skittish as a fawn. He would constantly flinch and seize up when someone passed him.

When an ugly, squat inmate, who had an uncanny resemblance to the guard who had tormented him in his first day at solitary, walked pass him Juice had a flashback. Suddenly he was back there in the cold room as the man cruelly tortured him with the ice-cold water. Clay had noticed that Juice had seized up, shivering slightly despite how hot it was in the yard. He gently took hold of Juices arm and guided him to the benches where he sat down and let Juice lean his head against him.

The other three members just looked on, perplexed. Clay was showing entirely uncharacteristic patience and kindness with Juice. They had thought that it was because Clay was just trying to avoid any more arguments about the club’s future until they saw the adoring way he was looking at Juice. Clay had even started gently stroking Juice hair.

 _And fuck you too, you sanctimonious little prick_. Clay thought smiling at Jax as he watched him. Clay sighed, let the little bastard think and plan what he wants, he was intending on leaving by the end of the year anyway. After he was enriched by his dealings with the Galindo cartel. The rest of the club where going to witness a master class in dignity when he abdicated the throne with his head held high. Clay had nothing to be ashamed of, the club was more powerful than he ever had imagined when he had first taken it over. _If Jax had the wear the crown id give it less than a year before the club was a broken mess with his leadership_.

 _Maybe I could convince Juice to come with me when I retire?_ The criminal life didn’t seem to suit him, and Clay wanted to keep him around. Clay wasn’t planning to just lie around until he died after he retired. He’d need something to keep himself busy. Maybe he could open a genuine business? _It could be a strip club, with Juice as my main act, folks would come far and wild to see him._ Clay laughed to himself. Juice noticed that, disturbed by the loud noise and then Clay went backing to stoking his hair. His fingers now tracing the lighting rods on his scalp that were beneath his brown hair as Juiced sighed contentedly, his face nuzzled against Clays shoulder. 

Clay realised he didn’t care what the future held that much. He didn’t care about power or prestige. He just wanted Juice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Im not sure whether to end the story at his chapter. I think it kind of works as a conclusion. What do other people think? I might write a sequel series after the club left stockton prison


	8. Revelations

Juice didn’t want to go to sleep. It had been lights out 25 minutes ago and Juice had felt tired. Feeling safe and relatively relaxed for the first time in a week, had let all of Juice exhaustion catch up with him. But even still Juice was struggling to deny his body its need for rest. He knew Clay was looking at him, concerned. Juice had suffered from nightmares ever since his time under Plemons care. While they weren’t as bad as they were when he started having them, when he had literally threw himself out of his bed, he still woke up drenched in sweat or to the sound of his own screams, he wanted to avoid worrying Clay. 

Eventually he couldn’t fight it anymore, he closed his eyes and then he was asleep. Clay, however, was still awake, he knew Juice was still pretty badly damaged mentally. The way the boy had constantly tensed, frozen up or evaded every inmate who wasn’t a son was a testament to that. But he also wanted to know how he was in his sleep. Thompson had told him that his guard had seen Juice thrash around in his sleep. He wanted to know if it was as bad as that. He waited for a while and then he saw that Juices nightmares had begun.

 _Its not as bad as Thompson told me, Juice must be getting better,_ Clay told himself hopefully. Juice was tossing and turning in his had prison bed, but he wasn’t thrashing or wailing. _Maybe its for the best, the kid might just need to let it out of him…._ Then he saw that Juices nightmare had taken a turn for the worst, the boys tossing and turning had increased violently, his boy jerked suddenly like he was trying to avoid something. When he heard a loud moan come out of Juice, Clay realized he couldn’t stand watching his boy in distress like that.

Juice woke up to feel Clays meaty hand gently stroking his hair. His head was resting on a pillow on Clays lap. He felt that his face was wet, he wasn’t sure if it was from sweat or tears. When he looked up, he saw Clays worried expression. Juice quickly jolted his head downwards to avoid the older mans concerned gaze. 

“Ah, shit,” Juice muttered softly to himself, feeling deeply ashamed and embarrassed. At how pathetic he must have looked to his hero or how Clay had felt the need to comfort him like a baby. He moved his body to a sitting position on the bed. Clay was still looking deeply concerned at him. Juice felt the need to reassure Clay.

“It wasn’t that bad, Clay,” he claimed, when he saw Clay looked rather doubtful at that he added. “I’m telling the truth. It wasn’t as bad as the first times. This time it didn’t feel as real, it didn’t feel like there was someone who was……” Juice chocked down a sob. He then buried his face into his palms, not wanting anyone to ever see him like this.

“Christ, how I’m going to face the club?” He said tearfully. He felt Clays strong hands gently prying his hands off his face and looked at him, gently into Juices wet eyes.

“Is that what your worried about, Juice? Fuck them. They don’t have any right to look down on you.” _They really don’t._. Almost every club member had derailed or damaged the Sons at some point with the personal baggage they brought.

“But look at me, Clay. I mean they saw me in the yard. They saw how I freaked out today. How you had to take care of me like I’m 5.” Juices voice was trembling, he felt fresh tears forming in his eyes. Then he felt Clay putting his arm around him.

“Juice, you’ve been through a really fucking horrible time and you’re upset. That’s it. You haven’t done anything to compromise the club, Juice.” Juice perked up, suddenly feeling better. Yeah, he thought with a smile, that made sense. Then Clay continued.

“Christ, Juice, look at how the rest of the club deals with their shit. Piney shot at me. After Donna died, Opie went crazy for like 6 months. Fuck, he nearly blew himself up. Jax is turning away from the club just to stop Dr. Pussys nagging.”

Juice flinched at that. He liked Tara. He still remembered how she had taken the time to compliment his efforts while they were patching up Cameron Hayes together. He remembered how proud he had felt walking down the hallway to watch the blood of his hands. But he also knew how much Clay disliked her. 

“Happy has been batshit for years,” Clay squeezed the arm that was gently draped around Juice, “But you, Juice. You’re getting through this like a normal person. Your thinking about someone other than yourself. You’re probably the truest Son at the table.” 

Juice couldn’t describe the amount of pride that Clays comment made him feel. He was going to get up and give him a bear hug. But his injured feet and Clays strong arm wrapped around him made him settle for sinking deeper into Clays embrace, resting the side of his head on Clays chest. They both sat there happily, until Juice felt better enough to make a joke.

“Christ, if anyone could see us now, they’d probably think we were gay or something.” Juice laughed, and then he noticed how awkward Clay laughed back.

“Yeah, yeah.” Clay forcing a smile onto to himself. _Fairly certain that ships sailed already._ Clay recalled the odd looks they had given them, while Clay was comforting Juice during his flashback. _Its not like any of them can judge shit. Tig would stick his cock into anything with a hole on it._ _If Happy cant torture or kill something, it bores him. Jax and Opie are so close they’ve probably 69ed on the table at some point._

 _Or maybe they don’t know how I feel about Juice._ Maybe, they’re just wondering why I’m being so nice and giving him so much attention to the newest member in the club. Life in the club was ridiculously homoerotic, Clay reflected. What with all the man tears and hugs. Plus, the parties, it just occurred to Clay, are basically orgies. He realised to his horror that he’s probably seen the naked ass of every single member. From the perfect, golden globes of Juices to the sagging, ageing travesties of Pineys. _Yeah, there’s a lot about the club I won’t miss when I’m gone._

 _Actually, what the fuck are we?_ Clay thought as Juice sleepily nestled his head on Clays chest. They were definitely best friends at this point but what else? Clay felt conflicted about Juice. He still adored him, he wanted to see Juice protected and nurtured, he wanted Juice to have been his son to raise not Jax. But he still lusted after him. Badly. It made him feel rather guilty considering that Juice was still recovering but he couldn’t help it. He felt Juice snuggle up to him more, feeling his lean, hard muscles resting on him. _That isn’t helping Juice._

 _And how does Juice feel about me?_ He clearly adored and admired Clay. But as a mentor? Best friend? Father? _Christ, Please no_. _That makes it too weird._ The boy was very affectionate with him but was that just a wounded guy seeking out comfort wherever he could find it?

Eventually, the silence became too much for Juice. Having no stimuli except Clays calloused fingers running through his fair felt nice for a short time, but Juice always liked conversation.

“So, Clay what are you most looking forward to when we get out?”

“Being pack at the head of the gavel, getting my club up and running again.” Clay shrugged.

“No, I mean not stuff like that,” He turned to look about at Clay, “I mean what personal stuff are you really looking forward to having back? Do you miss Gemma? I bet you can’t wait to be back with her after a year with sleeping in the same room as me?”

 _Christ, if you had any idea._ Forcing himself to look enthusiastic, he grinned. “Yeah, of course, Juice.” To be honest Clay hadn’t really considered her at all. _That’s another complication._ Clay didn’t know what to do or tell Gemma. _Mabey I could just pretend she’s Juice the next time were together?_ Clay instantly decided the idea was preposterous. He thought about Gemma calculating, cruel eyes with Juices guileless, puppy-dog ones. The natural glow that came off his healthy skin contrasted with the heavy amount of makeup Gemma used to hide the ageing on hers. Gemma’s feminine body with the hard, muscled tone of Juices physique. _Yeah, not if I snorted every last Kilo of coke the Mayans muled._

“And what do you want to have back most Juice?” Clay asked.

“Hmm, I don’t really know. I mean, yeah, my freedom and my bike and being back with the guys but I’m not sure what I really want back in my life. I mean, I thought it would be pussy, but after a year of having my ass and dick looked at like they’re Aladdin’s cave I don’t think I want to be naked with someone again for a long time.” Juice recalled the last time he was with one the club’s girls, the day before they went to prison. Juice remembered he had woken up hangover, buck naked except for his boots, with some beer dripping on him from a table, with a girl beneath him. He remembered how he liked how his head felt cushioned on her breasts. Lying on Clay had felt nice too, even nicer, Juice realised. He might be old, but his chest was still firm and strong. It made Juice feel secure and protected. The realization made Juice feel rather confused.

“I don’t know…um…” Juice considered a bit more but couldn’t decide, “I don’t know. My Xbox or shit.”

“Well, if you don’t miss pussy, some girls are going to be very disappointed. I’ve seen in you in the showers, are you sure there isn’t any black in your family?" Clay had made the comment in jest, but he saw Juices eyes widen in panic, before forcing a smile on his face _. What’s the matter?_ Clay thought perplexed.

“No, man. Pure Hispanic. I’m just gifted that’s all. How’d you think I got called Juice?” He grabbed his crutch proudly.

“Wasn’t It something to do with using steroids in Queens?” Juice looked rather offended at the question.

“I was just dealing the stuff. I never took it. You think I cheated to get this?” He pulled his shirt up, revealing his tight, taut six pack. Each abdominal muscle standing out independent and proud. _Sweet Jesus._ Clay had to bite his lip to avoid making any noise.

Before Clay could say anything else to Juice. They heard footsteps. One of the guards checking in to make sure that lights out was being observed. They broke the conservation off and prepared to go to sleep. Clay sighed, he wished he could feel Juice next to him just for a little more time. He got up. while Juice was already getting back into his bed. 

It was only then that Clay noticed what Juice was wearing. He had stripped off to just his tank top and underwear to sleep in. The tank top being part of the cheap uniform they were given but Juices underwear looked different. They were a pair of tight, black boxer briefs, Hanes. Juice had got them at commissary. Clay had found it an outrageous waste of money at first but decided that everyone needed something to reminded them of home to keep themselves sane. Now they were clinging to Juices ass, showing off how toned and firm it was, as he went into bed. He was moving slowly, trying to avoid having to put any pressure on his injured feet. Then, Clays hand moved as if it had a mind of its own and put his hand on it.

 _Ah shit, what the fuck did I just do?_ Clay thought horrified. _Whatl'l Juice think of me now?_ Clay feared. Clays hand was still on Juices ass. Clay doubted he could have moved it away with his free will, even if the demand was made at gun point. Juices firm ass felt even better than it looked. _It feels like goddamn heaven._

Juice didn’t move initially, like he was in shock. For a second, he was reminded of his time in Plemons but only a for a second. Clay felt different. His warm, calloused hands were nothing like the soft, lifeless ones belonging to the sadistic guard. The way he had passionately grabbed him was nothing was like the slow, methodical torture he had been through at Plemons hands. It also felt a lot different, Plemons fingers had probed, prodded and explored Juices buttocks like a spider while Clay was firmly kneading his. It actually made Juice feel rather good, to his confusion.

Even still the shock made Juice whip around abruptly. He had time to make out the words.

“Clay, what are yo...” Before he felt his left foot bang into his steel bed post causing him to wince in pain. It didn’t hurt a lot. Certainly it was nothing compared to what he had endured lately but Juice saw Clay looked immensely guilty.

“Jesus Christ!!! I’m so, so sorry, Juice! I didn’t mean to hurt you! I’d rather die than…...” and then a flashlight was focused on his face. Belonging to a rather pissed of looking guard.

The guard who patrolled the ward, didn’t care what the prisoners didn’t after dark. He didn’t care if they did drugs, fucked each other or even cut themselves. Just so long as they did so quietly. He glared at them, indicating the next time they talked they’ll be sorry. Juice and Clay looked at each other but not being able to communicate they both quietly went to bed.

_This morning was supposed to be nice_ , Clay thought upset. This was the third of Juice treats that Clay had procured from Thompson. Ever since Juices walk through in his diaper, he had become a bit of a health nut. Not only exercising as hard as possible but he was also very serious about what he ate. Juice had hated the cheap processed foods served at the cafeteria. Despite visibly being in the best shape of his life in prison he had repeatedly complained that the food was fucking with his insides. He was hoping that the fresher food that Clay had gotten for him would have made him happy and normally it would have. Even now, he appreciated the crisp fresh food in his mouth and how much better it felt journeying around his guts, but he was far too distracted by his emotions to truly enjoy it.

Juice was sitting as far from Clay as he could at their table on the cafeteria. This confused the rest of guys, seeing as how Juice and Clay were all but cuddling yesterday. Except Happy who didn’t notice or care about any of that stuff. He just excitedly asked Juice when he thought he would be feeling better and how soon they could resume their competitions together. Everyone else was too old except Jax and he couldn’t keep up with Happy like Juice did. Juice just honestly told Happy the truth, that he didn’t know when he would be able to start again. Happy just sulked at that, leaving Juice to his awkward silence.

Later, in the yard, the rest of the gang were playing cards. Everyone except Juice who was standing away from the table they were sitting at, ignoring the pain in his feet. Tig could sense something was up. Not being able to resist to urge to tease the youngest member of SAMCRO he walked over to Juice.

“Hey Juicy boy. What’s the matter? Is Clay angry at his little novio….” He had fraction of a second to see the brown blur of Juices fist connecting with his face and then he felt a force, stronger than he ever would have expected from the smaller man, sending him flying to the hard ground.

“Goddamn, this really isn’t my week” Tig said, spitting out blood. Juice stood over him glaring.

“Stop thinking just cause I’m nice, I’m soft, Tig.” And then he walked away. 

No one in the yard was laughing at Juice now. The awkward shuffle Juice had walked at the day before forgotten and now the memory they thought of when they saw Juice walking by was of how effortlessly he had beaten the man, who had been twice his size and who had entered the fight armed with a heavy rock.

Clay was secretly thrilled at Juice finally standing up for himself, but he was worried. The casual violence wasn’t like Juice at all. _I’ve done this to him,_ he thought guilty. Clay wanted to talk to him, but he also wanted to respect Juice feelings and desire for privacy, so for most of the day he left Juice alone to brood under the hot son.

Eventually, though, Clay couldn’t take it anymore. Juice would occasionally look at Clay in a very angry, hurt way. He couldn’t stand the thought of Juice having any negative thoughts about him whatsoever. When all the inmates were due to return to their cells in 10 minutes, Clay walked over to him.

“Juice…”

“Don’t Clay.”

“I just want to talk to you. Just explain……”

“Here? “Juice waved at the overcrowded yard they were in. _Yeah, that was pretty stupid of me._

“Okay but later. At one of the corridors.” Clay pleaded; Juice seemed to consider it then nodded.

“Fine, Clay.” Juice agreed.

Juice was already waiting for him in the dark corridor when Clay sheepishly walked in. Juice had his arms crossed over his chest, causing the toned muscles to strain out. He was tapping his foot irritability, paying no attention to the sharp pain it was probably causing him. He looked angry but even then his face looked sweet. _Goddamn, adorable is what he looks. No matter what mood he’s in._ Then Clay got angry at himself _. No! Stop it, stop thinking about him like that all the time. That’s what got you into this mess in the first place. Treat him seriously._

When Juice saw Clay, he stopped fidgeting and stood with as much dignity and poise as he could muster. Clay raised his hands apologetically. Clay the then started to begin to speak.

“Juice look man. I’m really sorry what happened last ni…” Before Juice cut him off.

“Just tell me, Clay. Just tell me the truth. Did you only get those guards to go easy on me in solitary and acted so nice to me after I got out was because you wanted to fuck me later?” 

“What, Juice?” Clay had never felt so hurt hearing Juices accusation, “ No, I did it because I wanted to protect you, I wanted to make sure that you were ok…” but he was interrupted again by Juice.

“Just tell me the truth. I won’t be mad. Not really. No matter why you did it you’re the only thing that got me through this last week,” Clay couldn’t help but smile at that, but then he saw Juice glare at him, “I’ll always be grateful for that but just tell me the truth.”

“I am, Juice. I did it because I care about you, you’re a son.”

“You’ve never been as nice to anyone else. Even Jax, your goddamn son in law.”

“Jax’s a fucking brat!” Clay said temporarily forgetting to remain calm, he then immediately softened his tone. “Yeah, Juice I went further for you that I would for any son. But that’s because I really like you…”

“Yeah, I could tell, you were holding onto my ass like it was made of gold.”

“Yeah…. yeah, Juice. I like you in that way, but I like you every other way,” Juice just looked confused at that. _Shit I’m terrible at words._ So, Clay Just blurted it out “I love you”

Juice just blinked in confusion, not really knowing what to say. All that he could say was a short “What?”

“Yeah, Juice. I love you. How couldn’t I? How could anyone not? You’re everything.” As Juices features softened, Clay walked closer to him putting his hand on Juices shoulder. “You’re everything, Juice. You’re smart as hell. You’re fucking beautiful. You’re so goddamn sweet, that I don’t know how you ended up with us.” When he finished Juice was just looking at him. 

And then they kissed.

It started off awkward, chaste. Like something from a 1950s movie. Then when they both got comfortable it turned into something deeper, more passionate. _Christ, if I died tomorrow. I wouldn’t mind._ Clay loved every little feeling of Juice. How soft, smooth and warm his skin was, how his lips felt, even how his moustache brushed against and tickled his face. Eventually they broke it off. They both looked at each other and smiled awkwardly. 

Clay was the first to speak.

“So, Juice…that felt…that felt great.” 

“Yeah, it did, “Juice smiled. He then suddenly looked self-conscious and he nervously began looking around at the dark corridor they were standing in, “Uh, I got to go. Happys still pretty pissed that I can’t work out with him for a while. I was going to get him something at commissary to cheer him up.”

Before he opened the door to leave the corridor Juice turned around to look at Clay.

“Uh, Clay. I think I love you, too.”


	9. Partnership

Earlier that day, as Juice had walked away from Tig, currently lying in the ground with a blackening eye in a crumpled heap, Bobby and Jax had exchanged looks of concern. Bobby in particular was worried, Juice had always been the most peaceful member of the sons, he had been hoping that after Clay finally retired he could have counted on Juice to help guide the club towards a more peaceful future. The kind John would have wanted but the way Juice had punched Tig had seen more like the actions of the more bloodthirsty members. Had Stockton broken Juice, Bobby wondered?

“Well, that was pretty impressive.” Jax said admiringly smirking, breaking the silence. Jax liked Juice and he didn’t at all like Tig. He genuinely was very impressed with Juice. That the most diminutive member of the sons had fallen Juice with one punch when Jax had only ever thought the man to a stand still. Bobby just frowned at that. 

“Now, Jax? Now, you’ve got jokes. First, we’ve got Clay getting us into bed with the Galindo cartel. Now, the little Ricans turning into another psychopath.”

“Cut the shit, Bobby. Tigs been asking for this from Juice for months now,” Jax snapped back. “I mean what did he expect the poor guy was just fucking tortured.” Bobby and Jax faces both softened at that.

Jax had felt enormously guilty over what had happened to Juice. It had been Jaxs plan that had resulted in their stay in Stockton, he remembered as he had watched Plemons roughly drag Juice away, his doe eyes widening with terror. Juice had willingly sacrificed his freedom for the club and now he was going to suffer even more. Jax had worried about how Juice was being treated but he had assumed that all the freak was going to do was treat himself to an extended strip search with Juice, that he would paw and squeeze at Juices muscular body to his heart’s content. It would have been terrible, but it would be something that Juice could have got through.

And then he had seen how badly Juice was limping when he had got out solitary. When Clay had told the club about how Plemons had beaten the soles of Juices feet they hadn’t really understand how bad the physical damage was. Jax had just assumed it had been nothing more that light physical chastisement meant to embarrass Juice. Plemons had done shit like that in the first month before they had arranged the necessary bribes. He would strike Juice across his buttocks with his baton, slap him across the face, he had even pinched Juices nipples publicly, to his and several other guards amusement. But Jax had never expected him to hurt Juice so badly. 

While Clay had threatened the gang into promising not to ask Juice unwanted questions, the way Juice had appeared so skittish and the spike of agony through his face every time he walked made Jax and Bobby deeply concerned and curious about what had been done to him. Eventually, they had gotten Juice alone without Clay and asked him to show them the damage that had been inflicted to him. Juice had looked uneasy, he had awkwardly looked at the ground as if they would just go away, but he had relented with a sigh. He had kicked his left shoe and sock off so they could look at the damage. Jax still felt the shock when he had seen Juices injuries.

“Jesus Fucking Christ, Juice.” Jax had whispered. Even after a week of healing Juices feet where still embedded with a deep cobweb of scars and bruises. Jax had felt phantom pain shoot up from his own feet at the mere sight of Juices. They most have been pulp when they had been first inflicted, Jax had thought.

They had both given him Juice another round of man-hugs. Normally affectionate, Juice had accepted them with a short, quick nod, annoyed and embarrassed at having to show his injuries yet again and had abruptly walked off to go back to hanging around Clay.

It had worried Jax and Bobby had close Juice had become with Clay over the year. Juice had always looked up to Clay despite his gentle nature clashing with Clays violent personality. He had usually been closest with Chibs but nearly a year as Clays cellmate had changed Juice. And now after his experience with Plemons the only person who he wanted to spend time with was Clay, Bobby realised with a grimace.

“Yeah, I know what Juice went through was awful. Can’t blame him for being little fucked up in the head for a while. Hell, I’m surprised he can actually walk,” Bobby said, quickly admiring the youngest members pain threshold, before turning back to Jax, “But he’s Clays boy, now. You can see that, right Jax? It doesn’t matter how soft or nice the kid is. When Clay has a vote now you know he’ll always have Juices support.”

“You’re just thinking of maybes and possibilities, Bobby. We both know Juice isn’t made for the hardcore shit Clays got the club into. He’s tight with him now but when were back outside hell be back to normal.” Jax didn’t even sound convinced himself, as he tried to address Bobby’s concerns.

The day after it looked like Bobby got his wish. Juice had been avoiding Clay the entire day, he had even walked away from him at a brisk pace when he approached him, considering how painful that must have been for him to do so, Juice must have really wanted to avoid him. What happened between them, Jax speculated? Juice has always been very sensitive for an outlaw and Clay has always been a rather blunt man. Mabey, they had an argument, Clay accusing Juice of being a little bitch and embarrassing him in the yard with the way he had panicked and shrunken back from every other inmate, perhaps? But the way Clay had looked when Juice turned from him was one of irritation or anger but of sadness. Usually, Clay would have hunted down and hit the member who had showed them that kind of disrespect. 

Later, in the evening, Jax had seen Happy. The club’s resident hitman was happily munching down on some snacks. When Jax asked him where he had got them from Happy told him Juice had bought it for him at commissary. He told Jax that Juice felt guilty for disappointing Happy by not being able to resume their athletic competitions, so he got him something form the commissary to make it up to him. Jax couldn’t help but smile at that, even after all Juice had suffered, he still retained his sweet, kind nature. He then asked Happy how Juice appeared to be, he explained he was worried about Juice was coping. Happy had just looked confused at that, he told Jax that when Juice brought him his gift he looked so happy he could have been skipping. Jax had just frowned at that. That didn’t make sense to him. Later when he was back in his cell, after it was lights out, when Jax was still trying to work out what was happening. He whispered to himself in the dark

“What the fuck is going on between those two?”

At the same time in their dark cell Juice and Clay were kissing each other, so deeply and passionately that a guard could have heard it walking down the corridor. The little steel framed bed wasn’t big enough to hold two people, so Juice was lying awkwardly on his back while Clay was on top of him. It wasn’t comfortable but neither of them cared. _Shit, when was the last time it even felt half as good with Gemma?_ Clay eventually broke off the kiss, then quickly left a smaller one on Juices upper lip, almost like a signature, enjoying the sensation of Juices moustache brushing against his lips.

They had both looked at each other lovingly for a short time before Juice decided to try to make himself more comfortable. He began to wriggle his body, not wanting to push Clay off him, so he could rest his head more easily on his pillow. He temporarily forgot how much his injuries still hurt and tried to push up himself up with his feet. He felt the now familiar stinging sensation race up his body and he let out an audible moan of pain. He saw the pleasure in Clays face quickly melt away to one of concern, he quickly got off Juice, pulled up the thin blanket and tenderly took hold of Juices feet. He looked at the stripes and bruises like he would give anything to take them away. Juice groaned, he didn’t want the contact with Clay to end and as touched as he was by his president’s concern, he was sick of the constant attention given to the wounds left by Plemons torture.

“Please Clay, stop. I just wont to forgot about them. They already feel a lot better from last week. They’re healing, there’s nothing else you can do.” Clay didn’t seem to be paying attention, he just looked mournfully at the injuries.

“Fucking savage, what he did to you, Juice. There shouldn’t be one fucking scar on your body. Its like ruining a work of art.” Clay growled. As sweet as it was, seeing the normally hardened president of the sons acting so earnest and sentimental over him made Juice laugh.

“I’m “ruined”, Clay? I thought I was “everything” a few hours ago.” Juice started to playfully wiggle his feet in front of Clay. The older man looked up at him smiling but Juice could see how sincere he was.

“You are, Juice. You’re goddamn perfect. Even the parts of you that have been hurt.” Clay started to very gently rub Juices bare feet. There were some mild stinging sensations at first by it quickly give way to a soothing feeling that quickly spread to the rest of his body. Juice hadn’t felt his entire body relax in a way it hadn’t in a very long time. He closed his eyes, sighing contently.

They were interrupted by the sound of boots walking down the corridor belonging the guard who had interrupted them talking the night before. Both Clay and Juice sighed, they didn’t wont their time to end but they didn’t want anyone else to know about them. Clay, quietly got up, gave Juice one last kiss quickly, before he went to his own small prison bed. They looked at each other one last before they closed their eyes and went to sleep.

When they woke up Juice had almost forgotten about the exclusive time Clay had got him in the shower room. They waited in their cell, Juice reading one of the sci-fi books Clay had given him, while Clay lay on his bed, bored. Eventually a guard arrived from Officer Thompson to escort them to the main shower room of the prison. When they entered the room and the guard closed the door lending them privacy. Juice, without waiting for Clay to look away like the day before, almost immediately began to peel of his clothes.

It wasn’t like the way Juice had normally undressed the last year. He had usually taken his clothes off as slowly and awkwardly as possible, especially in the first few months. The rest of the club had tried to warn Juice, that it would be completely counterproductive and would only make Juice more conspicuous to the other inmates. Clay remembered how Juice had nodded and listened intently, like a little boy listening to his favourite teacher, as the club tried to explain prison etiquette to him. But he had ended up unable to help himself. He had usually fidgeted in the queue while he waited for a cubicle to become open to use and tried to cover himself with his hands. All of which served only to highlight Juices vulnerability and how new he was to other guards and inmates. But now as Juice stripped naked, he did so casually. Like he was back in his house rather than still stuck in Stockton. 

Clay smiled at the view in front of him, taking the time to admire what he saw. He had seen Juice nude body hundreds of times at this point but this felt different. Maybe it was because of how relaxed and happy Juice looked or perhaps it was because they were in a relationship now. Clay could lovingly gaze at him, instead of sneaking in guilty glances as he and Juice where farmed into the shower room like animals. 

Juice felt both touched and rather proud at how Clay was looked at him. He then had an idea. Juice smiled, looking slightly nervous, at Clay before asking him.

“uh, Clay? Now that were kind of boyfriends now,” Juice winced at embarrassment at that line, considering how gay it sounded to him, “Do you want to join me? In the shower? Its big enough for the both of us and it’s not like we’re going to have a lot of other opportunities to get naked together for a while.”

Clay didn’t know how to respond for a few seconds. He definitely wanted to get closer and more intimidate with Juice. And Clay conceded that he had a good point that these exclusive shower times for the current week would probably be the last time they could be close to one another comfortably and in privacy for the next 4 months until they were back in Charming.

Even still Clay felt hesitant at the prospect. Clay had become acutely aware at how rapidly he was ageing for the last several years, not just due to the arthritis in his hands but how his hair was now grey and there were wrinkles etched in his face. It made him feel self-conscious. He was still in fantastic shape for a man of his years, Clay knew, and he was stronger than most men who were half his age. But regardless Clay had still become rather embarrassed at how he compared to the younger members; Opie, Jax and Juice. Especially Juice. _He looks like a Spiderman drawing,_ Clay thought as he continued to admire Juices athletic,defined physique. Realizing that Juice wanted this though caused Clay to grin.

“Sure, Juice. Whatever you want.” Clay said, before following the younger man’s example and began to remove his prison uniform.

When they entered the cubicle together it had felt awkward for the both of them at first. The cubicle could barely accommodate two grown men, so they were tightly squeezed together. Then Juice started the shower and Clay immediately relaxed as the hot water rained down on him. _No, wonder Juice was practically dancing yesterday._ Clay had gotten used to the lukewarm water of Stockton over the last 10 months and had forgotten just how much he had missed warm showers until he was having one with Juice. 

Clay had figured Juice had just wanted to relax with him and he was content to just stand under the hot water with him. But seeing Juice like this, being so close he could feel his smooth skin on him. Hell, even the smell of him, Juice smelt nice and clean and fresh underneath the shower, was making Clay feel rather aroused. He buried his face into Juices neck and started to gently suck at the brown skin. He heard Juices moans of pleasure but, not wanting to leave a hickey on him that would embarrass the man later, he broke it off. He then decided to follow a droplet of warm water that had landed on Juices sinewy shoulder with his lips. Leaving a trail of gentle, quick kisses as the drop of water went down Juices shoulder over his firm bicep before Clay ultimately licked it off just as it reached the end of the scythe on Juices reaper tattoo. Clay had enjoyed that so much he decided he wanted to explore the rest of Juices ink. He turned Juice around to make it easier for himself then he began to kiss down the tattoo on the inner part of Juices left arm, the one in Chinese characters. He took his time to explore Juices physique too. He put his hand underneath Juices arm and glided along the side of his body, until he left his to rest gently gripping his slim waist. Clay was enjoying himself until he noticed what Juice was doing.

His body had tensed up, so hard and so still he could have been carved out of stone and he noticed that Juice had balled his fists up so hard that they were trembling. _Aw, shit. Please no._ This was his fault, Clay realised. He should have known it was still too soon to touch Juice like that. That whatever Plemons had done to him, besides beating his feet, would still be fresh on his mind. _But no, I had to be a greedy little shit._ Juice had lent his head onto the cracked tile of the wall in front of him, sharply intaking breathe. Clay began to apologize to him.

“Juice, I’m so, so sorry,man. I didn’t mean to make you remember like that.” But Juice didn’t seem to hear him, he was leaning in even more heavily against the wall. Clay could hear him mutter to himself, in a desperate, pleading tone.

“Stop doing that. Stop it,” Juice hit himself on the head, lightly, “Stop making me act like that. He isn’t here. Its Clay. He loves me. He wouldn’t hurt me. Its not him.” 

Juice felt the strong, calloused palm of Clays hand lightly grip him as he turned Juice to face him. Clay could see Juices tears as they mixed with the drops of water from the shower. As Juices big brown eyes made contact with Clays steely blue ones he tried to look away, ashamed. Clay didn’t say anything, he just placed his hand on the top of Juices head and started to gently rub it. Juices started to relax and let himself rest his head on Clays strong chest. Nether of them said anything for a few minutes, Clay just continued to rub his hair and let Juice cry quietly until he began to feel better.

Clay turned off the shower and then they both walked out of the cubicle. Clay almost immediately modestly wrapped a towel around his waist, but Juice was casually walking around the room as naked as a jaybird _. I don’t blame him, if I looked like him people would have the fight me to get me to wear so much as a pair of socks._ He noticed Juice had wiped some of the steam off the mirror he was looking into it, it looked like he was looking at his red eyes.

“Christ, I’ve become such a pussy.” Juice sighed quietly.

“You’re not, Juice. Look at how you took Tig out yesterday, look how you beat that fat fuck in the yard. You’re still a badass.” Juice smiled but he looked unconvinced to Clay. He walked over and took hold of Juices right arm. He flexed it causing a sturdy muscle to immediately strain out. “I mean look Juice, your still one strong motherfucker.” Juice smiled again, much more convincingly this time.

“Thanks, man.” But then he looked at the reflection again, he strained his arm even more and frowned at the size “Clay, do you think I’ve lost a lot of weight? I look a lot smaller, don’t I?”

“You’re just a lot leaner, Juice,” Clay reassured him, “You’re still fucking ripped.” He slapped one of Juices pecs, that felt like a small slab of steel, to emphasis his point. Juice still looked uncertain, however, and he started to flex slightly at the mirror.

Clay couldn’t help but smile at the sight. _He’s a sweetheart but, Christ, he can be vain._ Clay suddenly recalled the last time when they were in Stockton and the club had used Juice as bait for Dion. Tig had been the one in charge of making Juice pretty. Clay had recalled looking across the yard confused as he saw Juice shirtless flexing to make his abs and arms as big looking as possible. When asked how he convinced Juice to advertise himself like that Tig had informed Clay that he had just told Juice that his six pack was getting smaller.

Clay remembered how Juice had looked like that time. He was burlier back then; his muscles had been larger but less defined than they were now. _Which version do I like more?_ Clay asked himself. He thought it was the way Juices body looked now, it made him look more graceful, but maybe that’s because its how he looked when Clay fell in love with him. Which would he like more, the swimmer’s physique Juice had now or the larger boxer one he had about a year ago? As he contemplated the question, Juice had stopped flexing and asked him a question.

“Clay? You know the way we only have this room until the end of the week?” Juice looked a bit apprehensive as he asked the question. Clay responded apologetically.

“That’s all I could get out of Thompson. Sorry, Juice.” But he had just quickly nodded.

“No, its not that. I know this couldn’t keep going forever. I mean…I’m super grateful that you did that for me. It made me feel a lot better…It just……” Juice squirmed in embarrassment.

Clay put his hand on the back of Juices head. “What is it, Juicy? Just tell me.”

“Well, since, where not going to have any time like this again until were back in charming. I just thought that sometime this week, maybe you’d want,” Juice face reddened “to, you know, do it……” He trailed off.

Clay frowned “What do you mean “it”, Juice?” he asked gently. When Juice looked at him, he realized and was taken back. “Oh, you mean, you want us to…...” He trailed off himself

“Yeah.”

Clay hadn’t really thought about sex with Juice, ever since he got back from solitary. He had mostly been concerned with making sure Juice had recovered from his time with Plemons. Plus, he had been content with the kisses and hugs from him. But now Juice was asking him, and they only had a finite amount of time left to be alone like this. Clay looked around, the heat of the shower had left a lot of steam remaining, obstructing a lot of the depressing features of the room. It almost made Clay forgot they were in Stockton, like they had been transported to heaven. Juice, still standing naked , almost looked like an angel to Clay. His beautiful body illuminated by the fluorescent light he was under. Clay tempted took a few steps towards him.

And then he noticed the crack in the mirror from a fight the month before. _Yeah, this isn’t fucking heaven._ Clay noticed a blood stain near one of the cubicles where someone had cut their wrists. He even felt the faint smell of vomit, from when someone had puked that morning. He took Juices hand.

“No, Juice,” he saw the disappointment in Juices eyes and quickly added, “It’s not that I don’t want to. I do. More than you know. It’s just you deserve better than this shithole. When we do it its going to be fucking magical.”

Juice was disappointed he was going to have to wait 4 months, but recognised Clay was right. He nodded.

“Yeah. Yeah, that makes sense. But Clay,” he looked up at Clay apprehensively, “ we can still kiss and stuff, right?” He asked hopefully. Clay laughed at that and kissed Juice on the lips

“Course, Juicy.” He grinned.

While they were changing, Juice suddenly had a thought, he perked up and addressed Clay.

“Um, Clay?” 

“Yeah?” Clay said absentmindedly. He was taking in the view of Juice in his boxers, trying to enjoy himself as much as possible before having to go out to face the club. He groaned; he didn’t want to have to deal with the rest of the club pestering him anymore. Then he realised something else, horrified. _Aw fuck, now Juices feeling better Bobby is going to start nagging me over the Galindo shit again._

“Its not important now,” Juice said, “It’s just when were out. What are you going to tell the club or Gemma?”

“Haven’t thought about it, to be honest.” Clay shrugged. He really hadn’t. “I’m not sure whether to tell them or not. Its not like they can get on their high horse. Especially Tig…whatever the fuck he is. Gemma, I don’t know.”

“But isn’t she your wife? Isn’t she going to be angry you’ve been hiding you were gay?” Clay normally rather touched by Juices consideration for others bristled at the mention of that word.

“I’m not gay, Juice” That just earned him a quizzical look from Juice, so he elaborated. “I mean, yeah, I love you. Really, love you. But I aint a fag. It’s not like I sing along to showtunes and shit.” Juice had to laugh at that.

“You don’t listen to showtunes and shit? Juice repeated. “Christ, how old are you, Clay?” Clays only response was to playfully slap Juices ass.

“Don’t be a smartass, Juice. “He smiled at Juice. “Maybe, it’s just you who’s made this way. Or maybe, you’re right and I’ve been lying to myself and Gemma for decades. That might be why I’ve stayed with her. Christ knows, she’s been looking like a dead tranny for years now.” Juice found that comment rather mean but he couldn’t help but laugh at it.

Clay smiled at Juice. Glad how quickly he was recovering and turning back into the happy, playful man that he had fallen in love with in Stockton. He walked over and gave Juice a gentle peck on the top of his head.

“Look, Juice. I don’t want you to worry about what we’re going to do after we get out of here. Just don’t think about it. Its months from now. Just try to relax and get through the time.” Juice nodded at that and after they finished dressing, they walked out and re-joined the rest of the club. 

Over the next 4 months Clay had felt the burdens of the president patch more than ever during that time, as much as he wanted to relax and spend all his time with Juice, he had responsibilities to take care off. He needed to maintain the sons relations with the gangs in prison, he needed to reach out to Chibs to make sure the sons were maintaining their grip on charming, he needed to plan ahead for how they were going to work with the Galindo cartel and he needed to plan revenge on the Russians for shanking Jax _. Hmm, maybe I could let that go_ , Clay had thought teasingly to himself, _we did fuck them over with that counterfeit money and the club’s golden prince needs a little humbling from time to time_. But no one hurts the club and gets away with it.

Juice, to Clays immense relief, seemed to have recovered from his abuse at Officer Plemons hands. His feet had taken a bit longer than he would have liked to heal but eventually he was able to resume his intense workout sessions to pass the time. For the most part he had healed mentally as well. Not completely, there were the occasional times he would tense up slightly for no reason, his eyes would dart around in a panic and he still suffered from the occasional nightmare. _He’ll probably carry that around with him for years_ , Clay thought sadly. But for the most part Juice had returned to being the same kind, softhearted man he had been before he had entered the prison.

Clay had appreciated Juice more than ever in the last months of their imprisonment. He was probably the only thing that kept him sane amidst all the demands placed on him or by Bobby’s endless questioning, Tigs stupidity and Jaxs scheming. It wasn’t just the physical pleasure he got from Juice, during the times they could steal together in darkened hallways or closet rooms kissing intensely, that made him love Juice. It was the way Juice made him feel. Clay had always felt calmer about the world whenever he saw Juice. Whether it was seeing his sweet, trusting face when he got up in the morning, hearing his carefree laughs in the oppressive environment of Stockton or watching him expend all his boyish energy in his competitions with Happy,his fantastic tight muscles straining and flexing themselves illuminated by the intense sunlight of the prison yard . He tried to think about whenever Gemma had last made him feel like that, but he couldn’t. All he thought of when he pictured Gemma was her endless complaining, demands and plots. _How many years have I wasted with that bitch?_ Clay had thought bitterly on the night before his release. 

When the time came, every member of the club felt a mixture of excitement and apprehension. They were finally free, but they now had to worry about the future of the club again after having their lives put on stasis for the last 14 months. The club had quickly put on their effects and then walked out of the main building. Despite officially being free they were still walking in a disciplined, slow manner, the result of over a year of strict discipline and regimen on their minds. Then they walked out the gate and saw Opie, Chibs and Kozik with their bikes.

Despite how cynical the years had made Clay even he couldn’t help joining in with the rest of the club as they celebrated. He whooped and cheered and hugged his brothers as they finally left Stockton behind. He got on his bike and grinned at the feeling of riding again. He made sure that Juice was by his side as they rode off, every member giving that evil place the finger before driving away. Clay loved the feeling as the wind whipped past his face, but he felt even better when he saw how happy Juice looked as he rode on. He grinned at the look of pure, unadulterated joy on his face. 

There wasn’t anything that had ever made Clay feel so good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So thats the end of it. My first ever fanfic. I hope people thought it was good


End file.
